Tormented
by The Mind Of The Dragon
Summary: COMPLETE! With the rest of the team coping with the aftermath of the last mission, John Sheppard finds it increasingly hard to stay grounded in reality. Sequel to The Consuming Darkness. Lots of Whump and angst. :
1. Prologue

**Finally, after all this time, the sequel to my other story, The Consuming Darkness. It has been a longer wait for some than others, and I hope you enjoy it!  
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**This story is as dark and whump filled as The Consuming Darkness is, and perhaps later on a little more dark. As a result I may need to change the rating at some point. **

**Massive thanks to my Betas JBPiggy and Lys, for putting up with my wandering thoughts and outrageous ideas, as well as helping to make my drivel readable!**

_**Thanks to all who commented on the last one, it made this one easier to upload! So please continue to comment!  
**_

_***I neither own nor want to own the characters in this story, they all belong to MGM and the Stargate Franchise. I merely torture and play with them..........***_

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Prologue

It took two months after their return before a salvage mission was assembled. The ship was going nowhere and nobody wanted to broach the subject until all wounds had healed. A ship with advanced technology at their finger tips, was just too good an opportunity to pass it up.

Weir was not keen on the idea of sending another team back to the planet, given that she had almost lost one the last time they had set foot on that sun baked world. Having heard John and Teyla's account of what they had encountered in the ship, the science teams curiosity was piqued, especially about the force-field.

To everyone's surprise Sheppard was enthusiastic in the mission briefings, voicing the advantages that the tech could hold for them, but technology was not the only reason he wanted to return to the planet.

He had to stop the nightmares.

Since returning from the original mission, he had yet to have a full night of sleep. The events plagued him as his sleeping brain played back what had happened. He had relived every moment that he had spent on that planet under her control, every detail summoned up from his memory, distorted to create nightmares that tortured him.

He felt that perhaps returning and seeing her cold dead body would allow him to move on from what had happened. John put forward a strong case to return to the planet, never revealing his real reason for wanting to go back.

Eventually Elizabeth gave in on the condition that all members of the away team were volunteers. McKay declined the mission, not that anyone blamed him, no one would ever dream of asking him to go back to that godforsaken place. She had her doubts about John going too but he convinced her that he could handle it, reassuring her that the planet held no other dangers.

The puddle jumper exited the orbital star gate and flew to the planet's surface. Sergeant Stackhouse landed the ship and opened the door allowing all aboard to step out on to the scorched earth.

The planet held the same burning heat it had while they were captive on it, the twin suns shining strong at the height of the day. They were soon sticky and uncomfortable in their uniforms, and each hoped that they would not be here long.

As they neared the crash site, a chill ran down Johns back. He could see the broken cockpit and shuddered as he remembered the pain and punishment that the White Death had dealt him every time he tried to break in to get at her. He nervously approached the ship, took a deep breath and looked inside.

When he finally saw her he felt numb. He was not sure what he had been expecting when he finally looked upon her corpse, but he was sure he should feel something. All he felt was numbness, a cold void of emotion.

Her desiccated carcass had dried quickly in the intense heat, the black skin was like tissue paper over her long slender bones. Her tube like hair was no longer attached to her head, having dried and broken off, leaving her head bald. Her face was tight and sunken, her eyes nothing but powder held within gaping black sockets that seemed to stare at him balefully.

A cooling breeze pulled at her dress, giving the impression that she was breathing, something that unnerved him, sending a shiver racing down his spine.

He made a cursory search of the ship, finding everything broken and useless. He tapped absentmindedly on a glass screen that appeared to be a control panel, unsurprised when nothing happened. Turning to leave the cockpit to find out how the others were getting on, he caught his hand on a torn cable, one of many that Teyla had ripped out and strewn all over the cockpit. Shaking the droplets of blood from his hand he took one last look at the body. The dry skin pulled over her face was torn at the jawline, showing the bone and grinning teeth as if she were smiling at him even in death. He was sure he could hear her laughter echoing on the breeze.

He heard Ronon and Stackhouse talking and hurried out of the ship, unable to shake the feeling of unease.

Their search had been fruitless. No one had found anything of value, or anything in one piece for that matter, though Zelenka took some pieces back to look at in the lab, including what he thought was a component of the force-field.


	2. Chapter 1

_A/N Thanks for the comments on the prologue! I am glad you all seem to be pleased that the story continues! As always, please comment!_

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Chapter 1

_A few months later._

Laying back on the pillow, he clasped his hands behind his head. The slight pull he felt in his shoulder wasn't enough to keep him off missions, but it still reminded him he wasn't yet back to 100% . His leg was another matter. Carson had cleared him for light duties. Anything longer than a few hours was still out. It would start as a dull ache then work its way to a throb which, if he didn't listen, would progress to all out crippling pain. So he was stuck with pilot duties, or babysitting as he saw it.

He had just returned from lunch with McKay and Teyla. Rodney was doing well, he had put weight on and was quickly getting back to his annoying old self. The friendship that he had thought lost, was now stronger than before. They spoke and met often but although he could see the fear diminishing on his friend's face, he still felt guilty at times. Like today, when he caught McKay lost in thought, a haunted empty look in his eyes. The flinch when he called out to him was proof enough as to what was on his mind.

Feeling the beginnings of a migraine, he decided to go for a lie down. Migraines had been plaguing him for months now, nearly everyday he suffered one. Sometimes they were preceded by movements out of the corner of his eye, like warnings that the crushing headache was on the way. At first it had freaked him out, but he eventually got used to them and took them as a sign to take some meds before the pain hit.

This migraine was the first in a couple of days and seemed to be punishing him for its absence. If it had not subsided after a nap, he would head to the infirmary and get something stronger than what Carson had prescribed. He rubbed his eyes, feeling the pain intensify behind the left one. He had not felt right since he had returned from the salvage attempt, hell, he had not felt right since he first stepped foot on that damned planet.

He had only just closed his eyes when he heard the door open, something making noises outside the threshold. He felt too tired and weary to get up and so waited for someone to announce themselves, but no one did and the noise continued, irritating and unfamiliar. He listened for a moment longer before sitting up to look.

The small white things on the door frame made little sense to him. They moved up and down the edge, jerking as they rubbed the surface, making a strange squeaking sound like sneakers on a polished floor.

"If this is some kind of joke, I'm not laughing." He said, his mood darkening. The squeaking was his only answer.

He swung his legs off the bed, a stab of pain from the left one making him wince. He stood and made his way towards the door with the intent to let the prankster know he was not in the mood for games. He slowed as he saw the white things elongate, as if growing around the frame like roots searching for water.

_John..._

His breath caught in his suddenly dry throat as he continued to stare at the doors edge at the wriggling root like tendrils. He recognised the voice that whispered his name from the other side of the door frame.

_John....._

She stepped into the doorway, standing there tall and beautiful, her hair whipping around her head like the Wraith version of Medusa.

He froze, his mind screaming for him to move but his body ignoring the command.

She stood there quietly, her hateful black eyes staring from that angry white face.

He tried to understand how she could be here and failed, his mind coming up empty.

"_I will not die on this planet."_

He blinked and she was on him, moving with such immense speed and strength that he was pushed backward until his leg caught the corner of his drawer unit and the abused limb gave out. He collapsed onto the bed.

He struggled beneath her, trying to push her off but she was stronger than anything or anyone he had ever encountered. She held his hands on his chest as her hair whipped around his head and slipped around his throat. She screamed at him as her back eyes bored into his soul.

He yelled out as he jumped up in the bed, breathing hard. Cold sweat trickled down his face and body as his eyes darted around the room frantically. He dragged a hand down his face, wiping the moisture away, breathing a long deep sigh. Glancing at the clock he saw he'd only managed three hours sleep.

The dreams were getting worse.

***

He was so shaken by the nightmare that he failed to see McKay as he rounded a corner on the way to the infirmary.

McKay had been walking with his attention on the computer tablet he was reading, his mind running through numbers and theories.

"Sorry McKay," John mumbled. "What you doing?"

"Well I _was_ trying to figure out why there is a loss of power on floor five, until you slammed into me." He said flicking his eyes up from the screen for only a microsecond.

"I already said I was sorry." John said rolling his eyes. "We still on for tomorrow night?"

"What?"

"Movie, Ronon, Teyla, remember?"

"Yeah. Well, eh, if I get this fixed that is." Rodney replied, his shoulders hunched as he concentrated on the screen and continued on his way.

Beckett was his usual cheery self, only too happy to aid anyone who needed his help.

"These migraines could account for the visual disturbances you've been experiencing." Beckett said as he gave him painkillers and water to swallow them with.

"Yeah, I suppose." He replied, throwing the tablets into his mouth.

"How are you otherwise? No pain, swelling, anything?" he asked as he watched him drain the last of the water.

"Just dreams."

"Dreams?"

"Well, nightmares actually." John said casually as he put the cup down.

"Quite natural to experience them after what you've been through." Carson sighed. "They'll fade in time."

" God, I hope so. I could do with a full nights sleep." He said, rubbing the back of his neck with his hand.

"Have you spoken to Doctor Heightmeyer? She could help you." He suggested.

Heightmeyer was a nice person, but he did not like the thought of letting someone inside his head. That's what started this off to begin with. He shrugged his shoulders, thanked Carson for the tablets and said he would think about it.

"If these continue John, I may need to take you back off active duty." Carson warned as John walked away, raising a hand in acknowledgment as he left.

As he limped back to his room, he noticed something out the corner of his eye. Expecting it to disappear as it usually did, he looked anyway, catching a glimpse of Her as she walked into a room. This time he knew it was no dream, but he also knew what he had just seen and it did not make sense.

He walked towards the door she had entered and looked inside. The room was empty save for some boxes and computers that were obviously in storage. He stood there quietly for a few seconds until a sharp pain behind his left eye brought the migraine rushing back to the front of his mind.

He decided to give in and go to bed for the remainder of the day. He was not due back on duty until the morning and he wanted this migraine gone before he had to fly.

_Shhh..._

Whispers followed him as he walked.

John stopped abruptly and spun round, his eyes scouring the hallway as the whispering ceased. He stood quite still, listening as he continued to stare down the empty corridor.

Sighing, he continued on his way, hearing a voice coming from the same direction as the whispers.

"_I expect to get off this planet, nothing less."_ Her voice sounded like the eerie echoes in a cathedral.

He wondered if he should turn back to see Beckett, but a still and creepy silence fell that tingled at his senses and all he wanted to do was get out of there.

As he walked back to his room, he tried to ignore the fear that was making the hair stand up on his neck.


	3. Chapter 2

_A/N Thanks for all the comments! Oh dear, John isn't having a very good time is he?  
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_I plan to get the next chapter up soon, and hope you stick with it even though it seems a little slow at the moment.... :)_

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Chapter 2

It started as a normal trading mission with a race on a planet they had met months before. The rain fell steadily as they followed the welcoming committee that had greeted them at the Stargate.

While going to meet the town leader, Tal, John noticed a craft that seemed terribly familiar.

"Is that one of your ships?" he enquired, eyes locked on it.

"Oh no!" the man replied, smiling. "We bought it at the traders planet, it's to help us ship goods to our neighbours on the other lands."

"Traders planet?" John said, feeling a tingle in his spine.

"Yes. Palido 10. It's a small moon where people from all over come to trade goods."

"And the ship, what kind is it?" he said, aware of Teyla staring at him.

"It's a Graedin ship."

"Graedin? That some kind of sports edition?" John said with a smirk.

"I do not know what 'sports edition' is, but the Graedin are a species that live quite far from here, which is why we bought the ship when we saw it. Very rare to find such a ship in these parts and rarer still to find one in such good condition."

Tal met them at the town hall doors, his eyes shone when he saw them. The large friendly man thanked the guide and gestured for them to sit. They were offered food and drinks as they bartered for the supplies they needed and established a long term trading agreement, which turned out to be quite lucrative to both sides. When the deal was made and they were finishing their meal, John asked Tal about the Graedin.

"Oh the Graedin? Do not see many of them now. They are mainly only found on their own planet, quite far from here. They are a trading people, selling the exotic and sought after fruits from their land. Rumour has it, that a wraith culling took most of them an age ago. Which is, in a way, quite strange, as they are wraith like themselves."

John saw Rodney raising a hand while clearing his throat.

"Wraith like?" He asked, trying to join in the conversation that the others seemed so interested in. Having never seen the craft before, he had no reason to be interested, unlike John.

"Well myths and mystery have always surrounded the Graedin, They look quite like wraith, but are not. White of skin and long living hair, they are certainly not human either, but the wraith seem to find them…a delicacy." Tal's face scrunched in disgust. "But they are a dying race, and the wraith will soon be without their dessert. Why do you ask?"

"Oh, I Just noticed your ship on the way here, nice craft." John said, looking at the liquid he was swirling around in his glass.

"Yes it is. We are most proud to own it. It makes our deliveries to and from the lands much easier."

"Where is the Graedin home-world? Might be worth checking out these exotic foods." John said, finally looking up from his glass.

"Oh now, that knowledge I do not have. Perhaps some people on Palido 10 would know the exact location, I can show you how to get there?" Tal said.

"I already know where it is." John answered.

"You do?" Rodney said surprised. "How come I've never heard of it before?"

"You weren't on that mission." John said not looking at him.

"Huh. Strange." McKay said, a puzzled look on his face.

When leaving the village to return to the Gate, they found that the rain had stopped, and a warm sun had started to shine through the clouds. As they passed the Graedin ship once more, John had the urge to fly it, fly away and never return.

"_I will not die on this planet." _Whispered the voice in his head.

He walked over to the ship and placed a hand on its hull, feeling the smoothness of its skin.

"You should be in space, not stuck on this planet." John murmured.

"Sheppard." Ronon barked behind him, breaking his trance.

"Yeah are we going or what?" Rodney said. "I mean, you guys might have had enough to eat, but me? No, not enough. I need to eat if I am to get back to fixing the power failure that Radek has no doubt failed to fix."

McKay walked towards the gate followed by Teyla, who threw Ronon a concerned glance. He nodded to her and approached John.

"Something wrong?" He asked in his low rumbling voice.

"You do realise what this is?" Sheppard said not looking away from the craft.

"Yeah." Ronon replied. "So?"

"So?!" John raised his voice. "So its my trip home!"

"What?" Ronon stared at John, who did not seem to realise what he said.

"What?"

"You said this ship was your trip home."

John looked confused, rubbing the back of his head with his hand.

"Damn migraine again." He said, looking at Ronon. "C'mon, lets go."

Without so much as a backward glance, they caught up with the others and went through the gate.

***

He stared at the plate in front of him, poking the food with a fork, his appetite none existent. They had all sat down to dinner together, the others spoke about the new trade agreement, days off and future plans. John kept quiet, not really interested in anything, not wanting to join in the conversation. The others noticed his quiet mood, but they knew when he had this face on, you left him well alone. The others finished their meals and eventually left for different locations and work.

John sat broodingly at the table, ignoring everything that was going on around him.

As he pushed a pea around the edge of the plate, his mind wandered back to the ship.

He had no idea why he had felt so drawn to it, still could not explain it. It certainly was a lovely machine, the pilot in him would have loved to have taken her for a short flight. But it had been more than just a geek moment. He felt compelled to go and touch that ship.

He remembered its sleek lines, the upgraded hull plating, the new improved engines.

_The what?_

Before he could try and make sense of what his mind was thinking, he heard a rush of noise.

There was a commotion out in the corridor, screams and gun fire echoed outside of the mess hall. Through the entrance he could see people running as if their lives depended upon it. Sprinting out into the crowd, he battled against the crushing tide of panicked bodies. A round of gunfire blasted further down the corridor and John put on a burst of speed, heading towards the source of the sound.

He ran to the end of the corridor and stopped so abruptly he almost fell.

The first thing he saw was McKay lying prone on the floor, deathly still and eyes bulging in their sockets. Blood dripped from his nose and mouth onto the cold floor. He stared at him for what seemed like forever, until he knew with a certainty. A cry ripped from his mouth as he realised his friend was dead. He wanted to run over, try and bring him back, but one thing stopped him.

She was standing over McKay with a sneer on her face, looking straight at John, her baleful eyes watching him, taking pleasure in his confusion and pain. She smiled a smile full of white sharp teeth, watching as John took in more of his surroundings.

There was another man, snapped in two and hurled against a wall. It was the shooter, his gun lay next to him, his eyes boring holes in John, blaming him. There was a young female engineer, sprawled on the ground, her head twisted at an obscene angle, face hidden from him. He was glad he could not see the expression in a third set of dead, lifeless orbs.

But his attention came back to McKay, his heart breaking as grief poured over him.

She was laughing, her arms outstretched, her hands reaching for him. She stepped over Rodney's body with slow graceful purpose. He backed away, tripping over another body, yelling out in pain as she grabbed for his arm and raked his skin with her long nails.

_You should not have let me die on that planet John Sheppard..._

He could see Rodney laying there, bulging eyes staring at him accusingly.

_Sheppard..._

_Sheppard..._

"Sheppard. Hey Sheppard?" The voice made his head jump up from the table he had fallen asleep on, and he looked upon the concerned face of Rodney McKay.

"You alright?" he asked, seeing a flicker of fear in John's eyes that disappeared as the sleep left them.

"Yeah. Damn migraine kept me up again last night."

"Huh. Ok. Well, Elizabeth asked me to fetch you. You left your ear piece somewhere." McKay said continuing to stare at John. "You sure you're Ok, because you don't look too good. I could go get Carson if you want"

"Rodney, I'm fine." John drawled as he straightened and stood up.

***

Sitting through the meeting, John found his mind wandering to the Graiden vessel again. Elizabeth was going on and on about trading with Tal and his people, but all he could think about was the ship. He noticed McKay looking at him, and he suddenly realised he had been asked a question. He shifted in his chair as he wiped his eyes, giving everyone the impression he had been asleep.

"John, please, this is important! Try and stay awake!" Elizabeth said with a clipped voice.

The meeting eventually ended and he walked though the corridors intent on relaxing in his room. His eyes blurred and his head hurt, another migraine on the horizon.

"Eh, John?"

McKay walked up beside him his eyes twitching with nerves, showing that something was playing on his mind.

"You, uh, you ok?"

"Yes Rodney I'm fine. What do you want?"

"I just thought, if you wanted to talk....?"

"No Rodney, I am FINE!" He instantly regretted raising his voice upon seeing the look in Rodney's well meaning eyes. He thought McKay had got over his ordeal but the pain in those eyes told him otherwise.

"Ok, well, uh, I am going .....this way." He said as he took a left into the mess hall.

Damn it. He really did not want McKay offside, he did not want anyone offside.

"McKay." he said, following him around the corner. He heard a strangled cry, that made him break into a run.

The corridor was empty with the exception of himself and Rodney.

And Her.

She had a grip on Rodney, her tentacles tightening around his throat as his hands frantically attempted to pull them away. His eyes fell on John, and the pleading and fear in Rodney's eyes jolted John into action. He ran at her and pushed with all his might, sending McKay sprawling onto the floor with a yelp.

"What the...! Sheppard...what....?"

John looked round, searching for her. She was gone, leaving him lying on the floor staring at a rather shocked and ruffled Rodney. He saw people that he had not noticed a moment ago, were staring at him, their eyes questioning why he had pushed Rodney to the ground.

Before McKay could say anymore, John got to his feet, muttered an apology, then raced away.

McKay drew a deep and wavering breath as he watched Sheppards' retreating form. Something was wrong, very, very wrong.

TBC.....

_Comment...please! _


	4. Chapter 3

_A/N And on with the show! Loving the comments! Keep em coming!! I am trying to reply to you all, so I hope I got everyone!_

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Chapter 3

He sat with his back against a bulkhead in a darkened corridor in the very bowels of the city, deep enough that the bio-sensors wouldn't be able to find him. He was as far from the populated areas as he could get so that he could avoid anyone who might come looking for him. He had no idea exactly how long he had been there, only that the cold was beginning to seep into his bones.

In the dimness, he could see her slender body as it floated down the corridor towards him, the tendrils of her hair creating a halo around her head as if she were suspended within water.

His head bowed in defeat yet even in this position he could still see her in the periphery of his vision. She sat down in front of him, her long white legs curling up beneath her, eyes fixed on him and him alone.

He ignored her, or at least tried to ignore what must be an hallucination.

"John." she whispered.

His body stiffened but that was the only outward sign of the panic that gripped his heart. She noticed his discomfort and chuckled darkly to herself. She continued to watch as a nervous sweat broke out upon his brow, casually tucking her dress under her legs as she observed him, long fingers smoothing the material with a gentle caress.

"John."

"WHAT! What do you want?" He finally snapped.

"I noticed you were not around and wanted to make sure you were all right. The LSD told me you were here........."

"LSD? What.......?" He stopped talking as his eyes saw Rodney knelt before him.

"John?" Rodney asked worriedly. His face openly showing his concern. "John I...is there anything......?"

John stared at his friend trying to calm himself. He knew he should tell someone what was happening. He was freaking out and beginning to lose his grip on reality, he needed someone to ground him, tell him it was all in his head, that with a good nights sleep, drugged or natural, it would all be okay.

"I've..." and that was as far as he got.

He wanted to tell him, wanted to spit the words from his mouth and cleanse himself, but the words stuck in his throat, literally. It was as if something had grabbed his throat and squeezed it tightly closed. He couldn't breathe never mind utter a word.

Rodney watched on in horror as his best friend began choking in front of him.

Sheppard clawed at his own throat, scratching deep bloody lines into his skin as he tried to release the invisible garrote that crushed his windpipe. Both John and Rodney bore the same expressions of sheer panic as Sheppard tried to rise on legs that would not support his weight. Rodney managed to grab him but only succeeded in slowing his descent as they landed in a tangle of arms and legs on the cold deck.

"Medical emergency to corridor four, floor one!"

Rodney was holding him, rambling words of comfort but John could not hear past the booming of his quickened heartbeat in his ears. McKay's anxiety shot up to defcon one when he noticed the blue tinge to Sheppard's lips. As he reached again for his radio Johns body went completely limp, his head rolling to the side.

As darkness closed in on all sides the last thing John saw was her looking down at him, her black eyes staring deep into his. Her tongue licking her thin marble lips as a wicked smile turned up the corners of her mouth.

Rodney could do nothing for him, he stared helpless as John began to lose consciousness. His bloodshot eyes rolling up into his head as his body bucked and jerked in one final attempt to gain the oxygen he so desperately needed.

As soon as Sheppard passed out, it was like the noose around his throat had been cut. His lungs automatically took over, quenching his need for air. Rodney's relief lasted for all of thirty seconds. His blood ran cold as he heard a whisper escape Johns lips.

"Dust dogs on the prowl............"

Something pressed onto his face. Opening his eyes to the bright lights sent pain searing into his skull. Wincing back and closing his eyes he opened them more cautiously a second time. The reprieve he had in unconsciousness did not continue into the waking world. Her face was still here, drawing closer, peering down at him, her black eyes inches from his.

"_I will not die on this planet." _

With those words she began to blur in and out of focus, he was not sure if it was his eyes or his oxygen starved brain that was causing it until she simply faded away. With her departure he took in the rest of his surroundings.

He shot up from the ground, sending McKay and Beckett leaping backwards in fright. He put his hand to his face feeling an oxygen mask there before tearing it off and throwing it to the ground.

"God lad, what the hell happened to you? You trying to give us both a heart attack?" Carson asked reaching out to place a steadying hand on Johns arm.

"I..." He rasped. His voice barely a whisper.

"Save your breath. Come on, lets get you to the infirmary." Beckett said, motioning to his medic.

_***_

Laying there on the bed being poked and prodded was not his idea of fun but John needed the time to try to understand what the hell was happening. Surely a hallucination could not have caused it?

Beckett had asked him what seemed like a thousand questions and tutted or hmmm'd at most of the answers. Considering most of the responses were "I dunno" Beckett was as much in the dark as everyone else.

He said nothing of the hallucinations. Hell, he _couldn't_ say anything about them. They were a one way ticket back to earth and a medical discharge.

Beckett scratched and shook his head.

"Have you been feeling okay lately. I know you have migraines and have not been sleeping, but there has to be something else?"

"Nope nothing, Doc." He lied.

"There is the possibility that it was a seizure, but I am hoping it was more along the lines of a panic attack."

John just looked at him.

"Have you hit your head recently, or..." Carson trailed off at the dark look John was giving him. "Okay, let me run some tests and you stay here and relax."

"I'd rather go to my quarters."

"I'm afraid not lad, you're here for the night at least, until we can figure out what just happened. Or at least be certain it won't happen again."

***

Ronon was just leaving when Teyla came to visit. She sat at the end of the bed and sighed.

"How are you John? You have a lot of people worried." She said, reaching over and laying a hand on his.

"I'm fine. I just want to get out of here now."

"Yes. You always want to get out when you can not." She smiled, remembering all the times she had wished her way out of this infirmary.

"Sometimes it is better to talk to someone than face a problem alone." She said, sensing a deeper issue.

"I'm perfectly fine! You're all worrying for no reason."

"Well, I am here John, should you need me."

He looked up at her, reading the genuine concern on her face.

"Thanks Teyla." He said looking away from her, scared that she would see into his very soul.

"Oh, you have a visitor." Rodney said as he popped his head around the corner. "I'll come back in a bit."

"It is fine Rodney. I am going to the gym for a while. It is a good way to relax." Teyla said as she stood up. "Especially when new recruits need educating on the women in the Pegasus galaxy" she added with a smirk. "Be well John, I am sure you will be out of here soon." Flashing a smile, that conveyed worry as well as warmth, she left.

" I thought you might be hungry." He said around the half masticated power bar in his mouth as he handed John a turkey sandwich.

"Thanks." John said as he lay the sandwiches on the bedside table, not in the least interested in it.

McKay was obviously nervous, the fact that he never shut up after he finished eating his bar showed how anxious he was. He talked for an hour straight pausing only for much needed air breaks. John listened, thankful for the company and the fact that Rodney was still willing to speak to him.

By the time Rodney had exhausted all gossip avenues, John was almost ready to sleep. Seeing the fatigue on his friends face, Rodney made his excuses, saying a power coupling needed depolarising, and walked out of the infirmary with only a brief backward glance.

Although he knew why Rodney was really going, he appreciated the fact non the less. Perhaps he could have a good nights rest here after all. What could happen under Beckett's watchful gaze?

TBC.....

:)


	5. Chapter 4

_I must apologise for the length of time it has taken to get this chapter up. I have been away at a convention as well as making an animation. Hopfully, I will get the rest of the chapters up more quickly! Massive thanks to JBPiggy for the beta on this chapter, she worked like a trojan! Hope you enjoy it, as always comments are welcome!_

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Chapter 4

She had visited him again, as she did every night. Torturing him in his sleep. Keeping him on the very edge of sanity. He used what little energy he had to put on a front of normality, especially in front of Carson, feigning sleep when the nightmares chased him from his slumber. He knew that the good doctor would catch on sooner or later, and Sheppard hoped to God it would be later, but until then he would use every trick in the book to avoid being sent back to Earth.

When morning came, and a nurse had taken his vitals as a final check, he was discharged with the embarrassing diagnosis of a panic attack. He simply sat biting the corner of his lip as Beckett explained how severe the condition could be, nodding in the right places and wishing that time would speed up so he could just forget this and salvage what dignity he had left.

"Colonel, I said you're free to be on your way." The doctor broke into his musings, "Or I could just tuck you back up in bed if you prefer?" He added with a smile tugging at the corners of his eyes.

With a mumbled thanks John literally walked out of the infirmary. Wanting nothing more than to get back to his quarters and catch up on the sleep he didn't get last night. As he walked the corridors he felt an unnatural sense of paranoia, as if everyone he passed was looking at him, whispering about him. He kept the urge to run firmly in check, he would not be ruled by this thing that was happening to him, he would control it. He held his head high and maintained his usual swagger until he finally made it back to his quarters.

Sagging against the closed door, he slid down to the floor. He sat there for some time, just glad to be on his own again, away from prying eyes. The silence of the room almost made him miss the fact that for the first time in months, his mind was quiet, no laughter or whispers, nothing haunting the periphery of his vision as he slowly stood and walked over to sit on the bed.

Raking his fingers through his unkempt hair, he let out a sigh of relief. He let his mind wander, thinking about his predicament. McKay's reaction to the events on the planet had been understandable. With all that he had experienced on his return his nervous disposition was only what people would have expected of a recently traumatised man coming back to reality. What confused John was the fact that it was several months after the incident and he himself wasn't anywhere near getting over it.

He was beginning to worry for both his sanity and his life, there was no doubt that he was getting worse. Sanity was the key to it all, if he lost his sanity he lost everything. The military wouldn't want him, not if he was truly having a breakdown. His panic attack could be brushed off as being related to his recent insomnia and migraines, but hallucinations? That was an entirely different can of iratus bug.

John knew that he was compromised. In his current state he couldn't even protect himself let alone the personnel on the base. He knew it was only a matter of time before his health issues infringed on his command and disaster struck.

_So why don't you leave?_

Startled from his thoughts he gave a yelp, that he would have denied if anyone had witnessed it, and then groaned at the reappearance of the bane of his life. Refusing to look at her was his way of dealing. If he didn't look at her he could ignore her, pretend that she wasn't there. If he looked into those cold dead eyes he doubted he would be able to pull himself back from the brink.

_You could leave and never return, that way no one will be hurt and you will not lose a thing._

As idiotic as it was to listen to her, John found himself seriously considering her suggestion. Turning his head he caught a glimpse of her out of the corner of his eye. She stood between him and the door, blocking any method of escape or hope of rescue. For once her hair was not a whirling storm, it lay flat against her head, limp and lifeless, almost as if it were human hair. This simple change and the soft manner in which she had spoken was completely out of character. If Sheppard didn't know any better he would have thought she was trying to save him. The compassion that he heard in her voice though had the exact opposite effect. Sheppard was more scared of her now than he ever had been.

_I can take you to places you would not believe. See things that you could never imagine. You would never have to worry again._

"All whilst sat in front of my television set, as long as I don't adjust it, right?" His sarcastic nature kicking in as it always did when under pressure. " What did you mean when you said I'd never have to worry again?" He cringed inwardly, not believing he had actually interacted with his hallucination.

Her hair stirred with threatening anger, her eyes narrowed as she walked over to him. _I will never leave you alone John Sheppard._Running a hand down the side of his stubbled face, sending shivers of ice running up and down his body as if to prove she was real.

***

Ronon walked into the infirmary, only to turn on his heels and head straight back out once he discovered Sheppard had already been released to his quarters. He wanted to see for himself that the Colonel was still breathing. He didn't know what he was going to say to him, other than a brief "you good?"

Finding Sheppards door open put Ronon on edge. It was something the colonel hated. Too many people passed along this corridor and his quarters were the only place that he could switch off from being Colonel John Sheppard, Atlantis Military Commander, and just be John Sheppard.

Walking cautiously, ready for any surprises, Ronon entered Sheppards quarters. What he saw worried him. The Colonel was sat on the end of his bunk, starring at something that only he could see. His mouth was moving but no sounds were coming out, a cold sweat dripping from his body. Ronon stopped and just watched silently, confused. John continued to make faces and whisper words as if he was in a conversation with someone that Ronon knew was not there.

The Runner wanted to shake him, pull him out of whatever he was in, but an old Satedan custom of not waking the sleep roamers stilled his hand. He watched mesmerised as his friend reacted to something only he could see. Pulling backwards from nothing, John raised his hand to his face as if he had just been slapped or burned, pain evident in the colonels eyes as he cradled his cheek, all the while mumbling to the void in front of him.

Slowly Ronon crouched down in front of John hoping that moving into his line of sight might be enough to snap him out of it.

"Sheppard?" He spoke the name softly so as not to startle the man.

"I need that ship." John said in his barely there voice, looking up at Ronon but staring straight through him.

Ronon saw fear in John's unfocussed eyes, could see the tension in his rigid body

"Sheppard? Come on, snap out of it." He said, raising his voice to a normal level. That was all it took. Ronon saw the exact moment the fear left his friends eyes but he didn't get any sense of relief as the look was replaced by a one of utter confusion.

"Glad to have you back. Where've you been?" Ronon asked in his usual gruff manner.

"No where special." Was all that John said.

***

Elizabeth wasn't looking forward to the next thing on her to do list but there was no putting it off. What with the Colonels recent stint in the infirmary and the sleepless nights the bags under his eyes pointed to she was getting quite worried. She didn't expect him to be back to full speed yet. Especially after the ordeal he and his team had experienced back on that planet. But she could no longer stand back silently and wait for him to come to terms with it alone. Recent events had sent her own version of spidey senses tingling.

John, as she had expected him to, had refused counselling and it was clear he was suffering from some sort of PTSD, but with out seeing the Doctor Heightmeyer there was no way of knowing how severe or mild it was. Over the last few weeks she had even seen him distancing himself from his team as well as all personnel on the base. He was also making frequent trips to Carson for painkillers for what he claimed to be ongoing migraines which were caused by his insomnia.

Maybe she had allowed him to return to light duties too soon. But she only cleared him because he requested the salvage mission. Maybe she should have ordered him to see Heightmeyer. Maybe then she wouldn't have to go and relieve her friend of command pending a psych evaluation.

Lorne was already performing most of the Colonels duties, a few more wouldn't be a problem. She could not afford for John to have a meltdown in the middle of a mission, that would be dangerous for everyone involved. She knew how the meeting would go, but she wasn't going to be swayed on her decision.

He entered her office with a slight rap on the door and a ghost of a smile on his lips. She knew it was forced, it never reached his eyes.

"You wanted to see me?" He asks, feigning disinterest.

"Come in, John." She replied with only a moments hesitation. His current appearance shocking her to her core.

His once vibrant eyes lacked the spark that made him John, dark circles stood beneath them in stark contrast to the paleness of his once tanned face. John would never win a best dressed award even in his blues, there was always a bit of a rogue look to him, but the clothes he was wearing now looked neglected. Sleep rumpled and three days old if Elizabeth had to place money on it. Clearly on edge, he chose to stand instead of take the seat she offered him. His gaze nervously surveying his environment.

All this added up to give him a haunted look, the look P.O.W.'s sport long after their liberation. There was no other way to describe his appearance. With each second of silence that passed his agitation grew. It was obvious he did not want to be here. The tapping of his foot. The drumming of his fingers on his hips. The way he chewed his lip.

Elizabeth drew in a deep breath to fortify her for the task ahead. But John beat her to it.

"I know that I've been having problems lately. I'm wo..."

"What do you mean by problems?" She asked, hoping that he would open up to her. "John. I am well aware of the migraines and such, my concern is for your well-being and that of the rest of the people on this base. I know the last few months haven't been easy. But...."

He laughed.

_And so it begins, _he thought. All the fears that had been running through his head over the last few days were finally coming true.

"I'm fine Elizabeth, just headaches keeping me awake some nights."

"It's more than just some nights, John."

"What? Do you get McKay to use the bio sensors to spy on me? Watching my every move?"

"John..."

"No Elizabeth. I'm not a freaked out cadet and I'm not a snot nosed little brat that needs his hand held in the dark! I don't need watching over! I'm having a _little_ trouble sleeping, but I'm working through it! I do not need people watching over me!" He said with a finality that made Elizabeth realise just why he was feared by his enemies.

He knew he had gone too far, the look on her face told him so. He put a hand on the back of the chair and leaned on it. Breathing deeply, trying to compose himself before continuing.

"I'm sorry. I'm fine Elizabeth." He said with a sigh. "I'm just so damn tired."

"A couple of days would..."

"Fine." He said banging a hand on the chair as he stood straight again. "A couple of days, that's it, but I am not seeing Heightmeyer. I won't have some quack poking around in my head." He said, all but running from the room without so much as a by your leave.

Elizabeth let out the breath she was holding, wondering if a couple of days would be enough.

***

His mind cycled through events faster and faster. The tilt-a-whirl ride causing his stomach to lurch sickeningly. His life, his once somewhat stable life, had been thrown into turmoil. A roller-coaster ride over which he felt he had no control. He knew Elizabeth had had no choice but to ask him to stand down, be it a temporary or permanent. If she even had an inkling as to what he was experiencing he would've already been aboard the Daedalus heading back to earth with a nice padded cell waiting for him. With the way she was watching him it would only be a matter of time before she realised the truth. John Sheppard was not fit to command.

So be it, if he only had mere days left on this city he intended to make the most of it. Heading back to his quarters with the intention of grabbing the six pack from under his bunk with the express intention of getting shit-faced on the south pier.

He entered his quarters and headed straight for the bathroom to rinse the strain of the day from his face. Switching to cold water he splashed his face, hoping the shock would wake him up some more. Then he made a valiant attempt to try and tame his overly wild hair.

_No wonder Elizabeth was shocked to see me, _he thought when he caught sight of the person starring out of the mirror. The smirk that formed on his lips dropped away when he heard a noise coming from behind him.

"No one's there, John." He told his reflection. "Just you, me and the promise of intoxication."

He sighed, turned off the tap and went to grab the beer he so desperately wanted.

Heading to the door, beer in hand, he froze. Motionless, he stared at the thing that had emerged from the bathroom he had just vacated.

Her eyes never left his as she seemed to glide across the room. Slowly she lowered herself down onto the bed and took up a seductive pose. Or at least it was her idea of it. Sheppard couldn't have been more repulsed.

_I _am_ here, John._

Her whispering voice filling the room, hissing and laughter echoing from the walls in equal measures.

He pulled a beer from the pack cracked it open and chugged it in one go before crushing the can and then launching it at his not so friendly apparition. The crushed metal passed straight through her her hideous face only to rebound off the bed and end up upon the floor.

_Now, now, John. What way is that to treat a guest?_

"Guests are wanted you, Cruella, are not."

_Still, I am here, invited or not._

His tired eyes watched as she crawled slowly up off the bed, crossing the room in that eerie way of hers. Standing before him she sensually trailed her hands up his body until they reached his chest. Pushing him down onto the bed she had just been laid on. Before Sheppard could blink she had straddled him. Her living tresses caressing his face, her hands almost lovingly rested upon his chest.

_Perhaps you would like it better if I were nicer to you? _She purred into the shell of his ear, her words forcing hot breath onto his skin. He shuddered feeling her so close, actually feeling the warmth of her body.

"I would _prefer_ it if you just left me the hell alone." He said through gritted teeth as he tried to push her off of him.

A stinging pain in his shoulder and the accompanying whiting out of his vision shocked him into giving up the fight. He laid there gasping, fish like, eyes screwed shut, for a few seconds whilst trying to get a grip on the pain. Before he had managed it she was hissing into his faced, snarling like a wild animal. His eyes flew open but he was too slow to grab the hands that were even now wrapping coldly around his throat, squeezing slowly tighter and tighter.

The memory of his panic attack, the choking and pain so clear in his mind made sweat instantly break out over his body. His hands grabbed at hers, frantically trying to free his throat and draw a breath...when she suddenly disappeared.

He gulping down noisy breaths, he sat up bewildered, massaging his sore throat. Scanning the room, he looked for his assailant, maybe she was hidden somewhere beneath the dirty clothes strewn around the room, or the remnants of meals that were now evolving into sentient lifeforms.

Had he fallen asleep and dreamed that?

Coughing, trying in vain to clear his throat, he pushed himself from the bed, hoping a glass of water would sooth the ache that was blossoming. Halfway to the bathroom a wave of nausea hit him so strongly that he sunk to his knees, hands gripping his stomach and lungs trying to breath through it. A minute passed then another, and a few more, before he felt confident that he wasn't going to blow chunks over the floor.

Standing slowly on wobbly legs he made it to the bathroom door just before a pain ripped through his body that bought fresh waves of nausea. Stumbling blindly the colonel somehow made it to the toilet dry heaving all the way. His knees hit the mat just as his stomach convulsed. Hot jets of stomach acid seared up his already tender throat.

The nausea and heaves subsided, yet the pain remained. Leaning back on his heels, Sheppard stripped his sweat soaked shirt from his trembling frame, before laying on the bathroom floor and trying to curl in on the pain that was coursing through his body. Lowering his eyes to the epicenter of the pain brought more fear and a fresh wave of nausea. A flush of black was radiating out in all directions from his midriff. He could see indents like those left by fingers on his stomach, pushing the infection further around his fragile frame.

Crying out in terror, he clawed at his stomach, as if to grab and remove the cause of his pain. He gasped for breath as his innards burned and twisted, his body jerking in spasm as gray tinged his vision.

_I will not going to leave you alone, John Sheppard. I will break you._

He yelled out as the pain intensified, his face a mask of agony before it slackened as his eyes rolled back, his head falling to the ground, his mouth open in a noiseless scream.


	6. Chapter 5

_A/N I know, I know!! Such a big long break from the last chapter! I can not tell you how busy it has all been, but chapter 5 is here now! Very very happy that you are all enjoying it! I hope you continue to!! As always comments are welcome ;) My Beta JB worked wonders with this chapter, thank you very much mate!!  
_

_And now, Chapter 5........_

* * *

Chapter 5

He could hear a voice calling his name as hands roughly shook him back to reality. Opening his eyes he hissed as the light seemed to sear through his brain. This only added to the pain already coursing throughout his body. Laying on a cold bathroom floor may have been fine for him at eighteen and sleeping off the aftereffects of a frat house party, but at his age it only aggravated all the aches and pains that he has accumulated in his air force career. Rubbing at his stinging eyes with the ball of his hand seemed to ease the ache and he tried again to open his eyes and focus on the person shaking him.

"Oh thank the Ancestors! John, are you alright?" Teyla asked worriedly.

"What time is it?" He murmured then sat up quickly, mortified as he realised he was laying in a puddle of vomit. His stomach voiced his protest at the sudden movement and he had to close his eyes and breath through the dizziness and nausea.

"It is almost ten John, we were meant to spar after breakfast. When you did not arrive I grew concerned. Should I call Doctor Beckett?"

John grabbed the edge of the bath and with that and a lot of stubbornness he managed to stand, albeit unsteadily, on his own two feet. Slowly he made his way out of the bathroom and into the somewhat clearer air in his bedroom.

"No, no need. I'm alright, I just had a late night party to myself." He said kicking an empty beer can nearby to emphasise the point.

He closed the bathroom door, refusing to meet Teyla's concerned gaze. The shame and embarrassment he felt turning the tips of his ears red.

"You are obviously not alright, John." She said as she looked around the untidy room.

"Teyla, I'm fine. I just had a little too much to drink. Give me half an hour to...clean up. I'll meet you at the gym."

"I am not sure that is a good idea given your present state."

"I want to. Besides, it will help sober me up." He said as he poked around a pile of dirty laundry, anything to avoid those eyes that could read him like a book.

"As you wish." Teyla said as she turned, stealing a worried glance before she left the room.

As soon as he heard the door close he flopped onto his bed. Draping his forearm over his eyes in order to minimise the light that was only amplifying the migraine beginning to take up residence behind his temples.

He was losing it. That was the only explanation. His world was beginning to unravel before him. If only he could crawl into bed and sleep the day away, but he knew that would just raise the suspicions of the people around him. He had to keep going as long as he could, continue to do the job he loved for as long as he was able. For as long as he was allowed.

Hauling his unwilling body from the bed he made short work of cleaning the bathroom before jumping in the shower and washing away any traces of the latest episode he had suffered.

Wrapping a towel about his waist he stepped from the cubicle and stood before the mirror. His hands unconsciously traced across his abdomen, his eyes seeking out any evidence of the rash, any discolouration, bruising, anything to give substance to the nightmares. His stomach was as flat and as tanned as it had always been.

He left the bathroom, grabbed the cleanest clothes he could find and made a mental note to do laundry when he got back. Without a backward glance he left his quarters and jogged the long way round to the gym taking the extra time to clear his head.

***

As Colonel Sheppard rounded the corner to the gym he paused and took in the sight before him. Teyla was making the most of the wait by warming up. Her graceful movements flowing together seamlessly. Muscles following a rhythm they have known since childhood.

A loud clapping interrupted her routine, turning she smiled at him only to falter slightly at the sneer that was plastered over his face, he looked positively evil. His eyes hooded yet dripping pure malevolence, a look Teyla had never had directed at her from this man she called friend. His stance was one of aggression, a coiled spring ready to snap.

"Are you alright, John?" She asked, matching his every move as he side stepped around her. Never showing him her back. They circled like prize fighters, waiting for the other to throw the first punch, deliver the first blow.

"I'm fine. Lets do this." He growled.

He struck out at her so fast that she barely had time to think, only just managing to bring her hand around in time to deflect the blow with her Bantos stick. She had hardly caught a breath when he struck out at her again, hitting out with both sticks, alternating the combinations, forcing her backwards one blow at a time towards the wall. She fought back, once her initial shock had faded, trading blow for blow but quickly losing ground. He pushed her inexorably back, hitting at her violently until her body made contact with the wall. Grabbing her hair, he pulled her head back, pushing his face into hers.

"Thanks for the wake up call, I'm _really _enjoying this." He hissed into her ear.

He pushed away from her, strolling casually back to the center of the room before raising his sticks to begin again when something made him stop. He could see fear in Teyla's eyes, watched as a tear fell down her cheek. He shook his head in bewilderment, not knowing what the had just happened.

_What the hell am I doing!_

He slowly covered the distance between them and went to wipe the stray tear from her face. The apology forming on his lips died there when she recoiled, his heart dying a little in his chest too. One more thing to add to the ever growing list of why he shouldn't be on Atlantis. One more thing to try and hide.

"I'm...I...I don't..." He said with earnest. "I don't know what happened....I...I..." He threw down the Bantos sticks and ran from the gym, ignoring her pleading calls for him to stop and tell her what was wrong.

He felt closed in, trapped. Running always gave him a sense of freedom, but today the only thing it did was put distance between him and where he needed to be. The further he ran the more jumbled his thoughts were. He needed to find somewhere that he could sit and think. That he could calm himself and think clearly and rationally. But from the moment he left the gym he could hear Her laughter echoing in the back of his mind, dogging his every step, and no matter how far he ran he would not, could not, outrun her.

He sped past McKay who tried to stop his head long dash. The forlorn look across Rodney's face almost made him stop, but the laughter drove him on. He could always apologise later. If there was a later. If he stopped he was sure he would crack.

He ran to the furthest pier on the east side of the floating city, coming to a halt at the balcony where he stood looking out on the ocean and its swirling depths. He needed to figure out what was real and what was not. He found himself in a situation that scared the hell out of him. He was quickly loosing his mind and the worst part was he could not tell anyone. If he told, he would lose everything he held dear.

To have done what he had to Teyla was unconscionable, the caring warrior did not deserve it.

_Yes she did John. She tried to kill me, remember?_

He barked a slightly deranged laugh, dragging his hands through his unkempt hair. _What if it had been Her that had attacked Teyla? What if she was taking over control of my actions little by little? Is that even possible? Could it have been?_

The doors behind him opened and without even turning he knew it was McKay. He didn't have the heart or stomach to turn and face his friend so he kept his gaze firmly locked on the undulating waves below. The movement of the ocean still soothed him even now with all that was going wrong.

McKay, for his part, respected John's need for silence. He may be an ass sometimes and socially inept at others but he could lend silent moral support when needed.

John sensed that Rodney wasn't going to leave until he had said what he came to say, so with a deep cleansing breath he tried to muster up some semblance of a mask. When he finally turned round, he saw that his friend was white and fearful.

Sheppard would have made fun of the way Rodney was ringing his hands if it wasn't for the fear he could see written in every pore of the scientists face.

"Dust dogs on the prowl." He said as he walked slowly to the other side of the balcony and placed shaking hands on the rail. When John didn't answer he pressed the issue. "Dust dogs on the prowl you said. What did you mean?"

"I...I don't know what you're talking about Rodney."

"You said it before you passed out, well, actually, after you passed out but that's beside the point. What did you mean?"

"Give a guy a break McKay. I was fighting for air. You can't expect anything that came out of my mouth when I was starved of oxygen to make sense."

Offering a weary smile to the relieved one that had twitched the corners of Rodney's mouth, he made his way over to the wall and slid slowly down. His head sagging with the weight of the worlds upon them.

The door opening to the pier was almost lost in McKay's ramblings about non-important things. He scrubbed his hands over his face and tried to prepare for the next person he had to face. When he lifted his eyes he didn't see who he expected or wanted to see.

She was stood between himself and Rodney, her black eyes flicking between the two of them. Calculating her next move.

A nervous laugh slipped out of John as he pushed himself from the ground.

"Can you see her?" He asked, already knowing the answer. There was no way she could be stood here.

"See who?" Rodney said, looking around the balcony then back to John.

"She is right in front of you."

"No one's here, John. It's just you and me...Are...are you okay?"

"Damn migraine."

Rodney almost laughed.

"That was no migraine back there in the corridor. I thought you were gone! And running through corridors as if you are being chased? What's going on?"

"Nothing, just tired, not been sleeping well, and migraines." He said absently as he watched her walking towards Rodney, her arms reaching out, her fingers ghosting over his face, his neck.

Rodney would have believed him if not for something he could not explain. John's eyes screamed that something was very wrong. The pacing back and forth like a deranged animal in a cage also wasn't helping the Colonels case.

"She's right there." He said pointing, even though he knew Rodney could not see her.

"Who..." Rodney's voice trailed off as he realised who John meant. The click as all the pieces slotted into place was almost audible. "Oh God, you have to know she's not real! She's dead John. Dust and bones!" He said approaching his friend cautiously.

John watched her move to stand behind Rodney, her long thin fingers brushing lightly up his arm coming to a rest on his shoulders.

She peered over him, her height making the scientist look small in comparison. Cocking her head to the side she smiled her hideous grin at John.

This stopped the colonel in his tracks. That grin never signified anything good. He stood stock still, watching her, wanting to hit her, kill her, do something that would end this nightmare now. Instead he just stared, knowing that Rodney was staring at him, trying to fathom what was happening.

Her fingers tightened their grip digging slowly and painfully into the soft flesh beneath them. Blood welled from the wounds running up and over her fingers, dripping onto Rodney's shirt. The crimson stain spreading quicker than wildfire. Her hair whipped madly around her head, her laugh echoing around the pier as Rodney howled in pain. She opened her mouth in a wide and terrible gaping maw, her blood red mouth filled with needle sharp teeth. She bowed her head towards the skin on Rodney's neck. Fangs sinking into the vein that pulsed so full of life.

John was hyperventilating, his hands curled into fists, nails digging into the palms of his hands, panic causing him to freeze. He could hear his blood racing as his heart pounded in his chest.

"No! Leave him alone! You want me not him!" he bellowed with rage. Casting his eyes about in the hope of finding a weapon. His eyes caught on a wrench left over from maintenance after The Storm. Reaching for it he turned just in time to see Rodney's drained carcass fall to the floor.

"I'm sorry Rodney, so sorry." John said as raised the wrench and moved in on Her, putting every ounce of his anger into the swing.

Puzzled, Rodney turned to ask what he was sorry about, when blinding pain hit him in the back of the head and he fell to the floor.

John dropped the wrench and made his way from the balcony, leaving McKay unconscious, slumped on the floor.

***

_When you leave, no one will come to harm and you need never worry again. Are we leaving John Sheppard?_

He had already made up his mind to leave. Not because it was what She wanted but because he couldn't stay and watch more of his friends die. He stopped long enough to kit up and arm himself with his stunner and P90. He had no idea how he was going to do this but he didn't have long to try and plan it out.

Carson was making his way to Weirs office when John drew level with him.

"I thought you were taking a couple of days off?" Carson said eyeing Johns gear.

"Word travels fast, huh?" John sneered.

"No it was just that Elizabeth had mentioned it when I was there earlier is all. I was...."

Carson continued talking but John could no longer hear him. All he could hear was sniggering as she walked in front of them, glancing backwards with a triumphant face. She began to taunt him, explaining in detail what she would do if John did not see this current course of action through.

The doctor continued talking while Her sniggering grew in volume until John finally snapped and grabbed the poor scots collar dragging him towards the gate room. Carson stumbled and twisted trying to get out of Johns grip. Unable to release himself, he shouted and cursed all the way to the gate

"What the bloody hell are you doing lad! Let go of me!"

John dragged Carson towards the Stargate, twisting him in an arc until he had an arm around his chest and a gun against the head of a now quiet and ashen Beckett.

"Dial the gate to P9578." He said in a voice almost not his own.

"We can not do that, John." Weir stated, standing on the balcony outside her office with a rather dishevelled McKay who rubbed the back of his head.

Armed men appeared, all guns trained on him. John sneered, pushing the gun harder against Beckett's skull.

"Try me."

When nothing happened John decided to make a move. He spun Beckett round and managed to shoot two of the armed men before putting the gun back hard against Carson's temple causing the doctors head to tilt away from the pressure of the now warm barrel.

"Dial the damn gate." He said through a tightly clenched jaw.

Weir looked at him and saw the determination on John's face, deciding she did not want to take the risk with Carson's life or the lives of anymore men.

"Dial the gate."

For a second John was sure that he was going to have to be taken down, kicking and screaming. He was tensed to fight, so when Weir gave the command it caught him slightly off guard. Suddenly he found himself standing there looking at everyone he knew and trusted, saw the looks of shock and dismay on their faces and he almost dropped the gun he held to his friends head.

But She would not allow him to. She whispered in his ear to move, move or she would torture him and his friends more than he could ever imagine. An image of the black rash and a memory of the pain it caused him flashed in his mind, making him shudder. He looked at the people surrounding him and saw them covered in the black rash, bruises and wounds showing through torn uniforms and clothes. He blinked and the image was gone, everyone just stared at him, waiting for him to make the next move.

He walked backwards to the now active gate, dragging Carson with him.

His eyes darted around the room, watching for anyone that might try and stop him. His eyes came to rest on Rodney McKay whose shoulders were hunched, his face drained of colour and his blue eyes full of fear.

Rodney had seen this before.

He had been in the position that Carson was now in, afraid for his life at the hands of John Sheppard.

The fear in his face almost made John stop. He never wanted to put that look on Rodney's face again, yet here he was, scaring everyone and putting lives at risk and he did not even know why.

"_John....." _She said in a playful sing song voice.

He closed his eyes tight and shoved Carson as hard as he could away from him, stepping quickly backwards through the event horizon, he disappeared.


	7. Chapter 6

_A/N Thank you everyone for the comments on the last couple of chapters! I have read them all but not had a chance to reply yet, but I will! I hope you enjoy this chapter, we are now about half way through the story! As always, reviews welcomed!_

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Chapter 6

The team found exactly what they expected when they re-dialled the co-ordinates of the planet Colonel Sheppard gated to. Nothing. A lush plain stretched for miles in every direction, animals could be seen grazing in the distance, but the object of their mission was no were in sight.

Ronon and Teyla surveyed the area surrounding the Ancestral Ring and both came to the same conclusion. The Colonel had dialled out as soon as the wormhole had closed. Kicking the gate may not be the brightest thing but it was either that or Ronon might end up shooting someone just to vent the frustration building within him. Lorne and his team were doing a fly-over in jumper two, just to make sure that Sheppard hadn't fooled the trackers among them or messed with his locator beacon.

Rodney was now setting himself up to start the process of extracting the last addresses dialled from the DHD. Opening the device he frowned at the little ziplock bag sat neatly between the control crystals. The absurdity of it froze him for a moment before he reached in and snagged it.

Smoothing out the wrinkles he instantly recognised Johns messy scrawl.

_I'm sorry. I had to leave, I can't stop her, and I can't fight her any longer. I don't know where she's taking me, but I'm sure that it's for the best that she does. Tell Carson I'm sorry for what I did._

_Rodney, forgive me._

The last words seemed to have been written in haste like someone or something were trying to drag his hand from the paper. Rodney stared at the words his friend had left, his face taut with worry, his stomach twisting itself in knots. Back on the balcony he had had an inkling that John had been talking about the White Death, though he had not shared his fears with anyone. This letter was the cement in the idea. John had written basically that She was haunting him and She could only refer to one person.

His mind started working overtime as he thought about what Sheppard must have been going through all this time. Never once had he considered how John must have felt with someone else controlling his movements, his mind. Only now did he realise the terrible toll that this must have had on his friend. He could see now that the colonel was experiencing a breakdown of epic proportions. Someone should have noticed. _He_ should have noticed.

Lost in thought he didn't hear Teyla come up behind him until her hand gently rested on his shoulder, startling him.

"I am sorry Rodney, I did not mean to scare you. Are you alright?"

He gave her the letter that he had found and started to connect his tablet to download the information on the dialing crystal without another word.

****

Upon the teams return to Atlantis, Dr Weir was waiting for a debrief of the mission. Not one person would take the five minutes she offered them, all filing from the gate, or the jumper bay, to her office. Lorne, assuming the role of military commander in Sheppards absence refused the offered chair, choosing to stand and fight the urge to pace from the twitch in his muscles. The tension within the room was palpable.

They all sat or stood around the office as Carson theorised on the colonels mental health.

"I would say that Colonel Sheppard has experienced what we call a psychotic break. I should've seen it earlier, but he's always been good at hiding what's really bothering him. The signs were there, I just didn't join the dots." He said, absently rubbing the small burn on his temple where John had placed the muzzle of the gun after shooting the two men currently recovering in the infirmary.

"You're not the only one, Carson." Elizabeth said. "What exactly does psychotic break mean?"

"Going by what Rodney and Ronon have told me, I believe John has been having visual and auditory hallucinations. He has been sleep deprived, suffering migraines since the incident a few months ago and this has caused him to lose touch with reality. Basically, to him, the White Death is very much alive and is trying to gain control of him. He can see her, hear her and probably even feel her. To him all that she tells him or all that he feels is real. The longer he goes untreated, the further from reality he will go. We have to find him sooner rather than later."

"Well that's a given. Where do we start?" Ronon growled.

"That's what we need to figure out, and soon. In this state, John is a danger to himself and to others. There is no knowing what he could or would do."

The room fell silent again. As they all mulled over Carson's words, there was not one of them around that table that did not feel the guilt of the part they played in letting John down.

****

With one intended and four random and trips behind him, John made his way to the Graiden ship. The moonless night aiding in his stealth. No guards were at the gate, no one around at this late hour, the ship sat where it had been the last time he had seen it, unprotected and begging to be flown.

He looked at the craft, sleek lines, hidden power, and felt a thrill run through his soul at the thought that he would finally be able to fly it.

_Touch it._

His hand reached out and stroked the outer skin, warm to the touch, it felt almost alive.

_Lift your hand._

Following her instructions, he slipped a hand under a nodule next to the cockpit and pressed the small button beneath. Without a sound the ship opened effortlessly, the interior lights shone a deep dim blue.

Climbing into the craft, he then slid down into the too large chair, his hands playing over the console in front of him, doing things his mind did not know how to do. A holographic heads-up display burst into life above the console, displaying star charts, some he recognised and others that he knew but not how he knew them.

He watched as his hands touched the hologram and dragged lines and points around, plotting a course. Although the language was foreign to him he recognised the destination, Palido 10.

_This is all a dream, this has to be a dream._

He closed his eyes and shook his head in a vain attempt to shake away this reality, but on opening his eyes he found himself still in the Graiden ship. Placing his hands on the console he tried to push himself up only to feel an incredible weight on his shoulder, pressing his body back into the chair. She was stronger now than she had been in previous encounters.

He could feel her talons biting into the flesh beneath his shirt. Stopping him from getting away or forcing him to do her bidding. Torturing him with terrible images or playing with his nerve endings until he cried out with pain.

This torment carried on for what seemed like hours. His mind slowly losing its grip on what was real and what was perceived. Until suddenly all sensations stopped. He sat there panting, trying to recover from his ordeal. The pain he had felt moments before was suddenly replaced by panic as his body began to glow. He watched in fear and fascination as a ghostly image tore itself from his body. She rose out of him, turning in the air to face him, laying herself on his chest. He knew that she was projecting all of this in his mind, but it didn't make it any less terrifying.

Meeting his gaze, she raised a hand to caress his cheek. The touch warm against his clammy face. It was all so real, but how could it be if this were all in his mind?

"_We will do great things together, you wait and see." _She said, her eyes locked on his.

Her image wavered then, static infusing her form. John finally thinking luck was on his side tensed to run, flee the ship and leave this nightmare far behind him. His hope was short lived as she snapped back into crystal clear HD, her black eyes flickered to a fiery red, her mouth opening unnaturally wide, the blood red gaping mouth and needle thin teeth stretched in front of him. Roaring into his face she dove for his chest, teeth piercing the flesh directly above his heart.

The scream echoed around the cabin, bouncing around the walls, beating against the colonels eardrums. He sat there writhing in agony as she manipulated the nerves in his body to inflict yet more pain on him, forcing his mind to shut down.

As John passed out, she slipped in. Gaining what he wouldn't give her willingly. Complete control of his body.

Breathing deeply for the first time in so long she reveled in the simple pleasure. Reaching out she called up the HUD and finished plotting the course. With one final flick of her wrist the ship rumbled to life and started to lift from the ground

The Graiden ship took to the skies, John Sheppard sat behind the console, but the White Death in complete control.

_TBC......._


	8. Chapter 7

_I know, I know! Long time with nothing and two chapters in one week! Well, it has just happened that way! My beta and myself were on the same wavelength and happened to be free at the same time! This chapter will explain a lot, and I hope you enjoy it as it is not quite what you may think__....__well, some of you may have guessed ;) as always, reviews are most welcome :D_

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Chapter 7

The consciousness transfer had been a panicked last ditch attempt to survive. When the Emmagan woman began to rip out the cables that were sustaining her she had been left with no other options. The wires that were connected through the base of her skull had remained intact just long enough to complete the transfer.

Placing your very being into a ships computer, even when you know what you are doing, is risky at best and fatal at worst. Incomplete transfers were a common fault in older ships, like the one she had crashed in.

All Graiden ships were controlled by a mechanical living brain held within a hard computer shell deep within the ship. These brains were cloned from an amalgam of the best brains on the planet at the time of manufacture. They were responsible for the legendary performance of these vehicles, couple that with Graiden telepathy and you had a near undefeatable pilot. Ship and pilot become one.

It was the mechanical side of the brain that was always at fault if a transfer failed. Faulty clusters or pathways were normally to blame.

The White Death had once been thought of as one of the most powerful minds on her planet. Held in the highest regard and respected by almost all of her peers, until she betrayed them.

In exchange for wiping out all who opposed her she offered the wraith an all you can eat buffet, and the code to the defense grid. She gathered her most trusted advisors, and people that she thought would be able to help rebuild the planet, and made sure she was elsewhere when the darts came screaming from the skies.

The Wraith made it through the planets defenses, culling a great deal of the planet, all but wiping out the entire species. Upon her return she felt a deep sense of loss. In her wildest dreams she hadn't expected the wraith to take as many as they did. She wept for the loss of life, but not for the betrayal. She did not regret her decision to bargain with the Wraith, it had after all disposed of all who stood in her way. The seat of governor was now hers and hers alone.

The survivors banded together and tried to figure out how their planetary defenses had been breached when they had kept the Wraith at bay for over 6 generations. No one could figure it out. The White Deaths betrayal only came to light when a chance encounter led to the capture of a Wraith dart and its pilot. The wraith was brought before the governor for trial and execution for the atrocities of the past. Before sentence could be passed he smiled menacingly at her and took great pleasure in divulging his part in the annihilation of her planet. He then turned to the others and told them how the Wraith got the defense grid codes.

She ran. There was nothing more she could do. By the cover of nightfall she gathered up her child servants and boarded a freighter bound for a trading colony, as far from her home world as she could get. It was a lonely and terrible life, but her skills allowed her to survive. She spent years there, with only the children as company, if that's what you could call it. They were repressed, a constant pressure put on both their mind and body to prevent escaping, but it was better than true isolation.

She worked non-stop to gather enough funds to buy her own ship. Even on this far flung colony there was a chance that she would be identified. She'd picked which vessel would be hers and each penny earned was a step closer to finally escaping. There was only one thing she needed to do once she bought the ship. One lose end that needed to be tied up. She wanted the Wraith communicator. The one that had brought destruction down on her people.

This meant the first stop before freedom was to be her homeworld. She knew she had hidden it so well that it would still be there. This was her insurance plan. A means to destroy anyone who would stand in her way.

She tied her hair back and disguised herself as a common servant, and made her way to the governors building. It wasn't until after she retrieved the communicator that she slipped up. A common guard and a nod to him was all it took. In her absence her reputation as the destroyer of the world had grown. Her name superseded by the medias name for her. The White Death. It was these words that were the last the guard would utter. His blood was still on her hands as she ran through the market place to the space port. His was not the only blood spilled that day. Ten in all lost their lives. Their treacherous tongues permanently stilled.

People say that those who have killed find the next victim easier to take. To her this was true. With each death her heart and soul hardened that little bit more. After fleeing her homeworld she killed anyone that so much as looked at her wrong. Her telepathy helped too. She knew the instant she was recognised. Each murder added to her reputation. Fueling the fear her new name held.

Her memories dissipated as she felt the colonel stir beneath her control. The confusion and fear that she felt radiate through him sent a thrill up and down her spine.

When John Sheppard had returned to her ship, she knew the Gods still favored her. His mind and body were familiar to her, she knew exactly how to bend him to her will. Having controlled him before she knew his limits, which buttons she should push to control or torture him.

He had not realised that the cable at the crash site had deliberately struck him. An automated transfer that sent her complete consciousness into his unknowing body. Without her own body to worry about, her mind was strong and powerful and she knew she would have no problem controlling John Sheppard. He would do exactly what was required of him to get her what she wanted.

It may have taken her longer than she hoped to gain full control but without a body time was of little consequence. For months she had been manipulating his reality, small things at first. The migraines he experienced were caused merely by her presence within his mind, and she was pleased that this unforeseen side effect aided in her achieving her goal.

She had enjoyed twisting his mind, watching as he tried to comprehend what was happening. Speaking to him, toying with him. Using him to attack Rodney McKay and Teyla Emmagan. If he had not slipped her hold that time, she would probably have killed the woman with her own weapon, she thought bitterly.

Unlike most people it wasn't the torture she placed on his body that sped up his breakdown. It was the hurting of those he worked with. He cared too much for these people that harming them himself threw him from reality further than she could have thought possible.

She had broken John Sheppard in order to gain complete control of him, so she could to do what was needed. And what was needed was a new body. Sheppard was a means to an end but she could not live in this body indefinitely. Her brain patterns were so different to humans that there was a definite possibility of his brain degrading and her consciousness becoming lost in the process. She had to find another Graiden body in order to survive.

She knew where to find that body.

****

The Planet hadn't changed much since her last visit. The air still stank of oil and filth. People hurried and bartered, fought and laughed. It was a haven for criminals, ship breakers, rare parts and illegal transactions. It was a place where someone could hide and a place where the lost were found.

There were streets upon streets, a labyrinth easily lost in. Every street was filled with shops and taverns on ground level, living accommodation on upper levels. People conducted clandestine transactions in every nook and cranny, while others enjoyed a drink or shared a meal with friends or customers.

She had landed her ship at the docking bay she was assigned, the only thing that would raise eyebrows is how a Human came by a Graiden ship. The walk into town was pleasant. She had not been able to move amongst people this freely since before the culling. Memories played across her mind and brought a smile to her lips.

As she walked deeper into the town, John began to fight her control again. She smirked and made her way over to a window, looking upon a reflection that was not her own. The shock of seeing her wicked grin smeared over his own face stilled any fight for the moment. He watched as she ran his hand through his hair, tugging it slightly.

"I am the one in control now, John. There is nothing you can do but sit back and relax." she said.

It was surreal. It was his face. His mouth. His voice. Yet he was not in the driving seat. The frustration and anger that was building inside him fueled his fight. He reached for the knife at his belt, although once he had it he hesitated. What was he going to do? Stab himself? This hesitation was all she needed to reassert her control.

Staring at the window he watched in horror as she plunged the knife through his left hand. It plunged through till the hilt met his palm. It was a wound intended to hurt not to maim. The pain that seared through him had him checking out on reality for a while.

She felt the pain, but the elation she felt at his continued torture helped her bear it.

Grasping the knife, she pulled it free and replaced it in the sheath. Removing a bandage from his vest pocket she bound the wound tightly and then headed off through the warren of houses. Memory guiding her feet.

***

She stopped next to a large hanger bay. An old sign above the door, proclaimed it to be "The best flight service in Palido 10. Cruises to Segma, Navek and all the moons inbetween." She walked confidently through the ancient rusting ships wending her way to a shining freight ship and waited for the short stocky Graiden to notice her.

"You can not come back here, it is staff only." The Graiden stated whilst cleaning his hands on a rag.

"I need a ship and a pilot. One with safe passage to Navek." she said as a smile spread across Sheppard's face.

"I said it's private back here, go to the front of the shop and I will be out in a bit."

"How is your wife Jimmis? Still limping from that unfortunate accident she had?"

"How do you know about that?" Jimmis eyed the man before him suspiciously. "Only three people know about that."

"Because I am the one who did it." The smile turned into a wicked grin.

At first it looked as if the man was going to collapse, but he kept his feet and shook off the surprise on his face. He peered closely at the face of John Sheppard, so sure it was someone trying to dupe him.

"Can you help me, Jimmis?" She asked, inwardly enjoying the mans attempt to prove it was not her.

"How do I know it is really you?" He asked, deciding to be cautious and test the man before him.

He suddenly found himself flying backwards, throat clutched by anothers hand, until his flight was cut short by the door to his ship.

"Do not try me Jimmis. I may have a different face, but I will still kill your wife in recompense for the last time you cheated me. What would your sweet wife think of you if she knew the role you played in our worlds downfall?" She released his neck, pleased with the bruises she could see already forming, and stepped back, watching the dawning recognition on his face.

He saw the look in the humans eyes, the determination in the expression, it was her, no doubt about it.

"Sure Carsa, I'll get you home but after that you're on your own." He said turning from her to open the door. He felt a hand clip the back of his head but muffled the cry that almost came out. To show weakness in front of her would give her satisfaction. Even after all these years he refused to do that.

"Never call me that!" She growled. Her given name only reminded her of what she lost, not who she had become.

Jimmis, still rubbing away the ache on the back of his head, seated himself and did a quick pre-flight check. All the while cursing himself for ever getting involved with the White Death in the first place.

The man that took the copilots chair had a glint in his eye so reminiscent of the Graiden Jimmis knew a lifetime ago that it sent a chill to the very marrow of his bones.

TBC.....


	9. Chapter 8

_Hoping to have this finished soon. My beta J has done wonders again and turned my musings into something worth reading! Enjoy and let me know what you think. Thanks for all the comments, they really have made this story easier to write! :D_

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Chapter 8

Rodney paced around Dr Weir's office, his nervous energy fueling the panic he could feel building within. Sheppard's note was clasped in his hand, his only scrap of evidence to prove the theory that even to his ears sounded insane. The White Death was the one now controlling the body of Colonel John Sheppard.

"Think about it! It's all here in black and white, well, blue and white. It's the only possible explanation!" Rodney exclaimed.

"No Rodney, it only proves that John is so wrapped up in his own delusions that he believes what is written on that note. The colonel is experiencing a psychotic break and if we don't find him soon and start treatment we may lose the man we know forever." Carson knew how much Rodney wanted to believe that there was an outside influence. If he could blame the White Death then Sheppard could easily be fixed, so to speak.

"I am telling you! I should know, I saw it with my own eyes. He acted the same then as he did in the gate room earlier. Well aside from not torturing Carson. His eye's were hateful and apologetic all at the same time, like there were two people looking out of them."

"Rodney," Elizabeth began. "I know what you went through, and yes, his behavior today could make it..."

"Dust dogs on the prowl." Rodney blurted out.

"What?" She asked, her brow knitting together questioningly.

"Dust dogs on the prowl. He said that to me during the choking incident. That was something that..."

"The White Death said." Teyla finished.

"You are not seriously believing this nonsense?! Any number of factors in a psychotic break could explain away the saying. He could have just been reliving the experience from the incident before." Carson said irritated.

"The White Death is back in control of John Sheppard. No ifs, ands or maybes."

"Then convince us Rodney. We need more to go on than a few words spoken whilst John was fighting to breathe." Elizabeth stated.

Rodney stopped pacing and placed a finger in the air, his head lowered in thought.

"Palido 10!" Rodney exclaimed, snapping his fingers as the name popped into his head.

"What?" Elizabeth asked, straightening in her chair.

"Palido 10. He mentioned it when we went to trade with Tal, said I had not been with him on that particular mission, but I'd bet my Mac that no one was on that mission, including Sheppard!"

"So if John had not been to it, then he knew about Palido 10 because.....?"

"Because the White Death is back in control of him. Palido 10 is proof."

Rodney searched through all the mission logs, trying to find even the most obscurest reference to Palido 10. Three hours and ten cups of coffee later, his theory was gaining more weight. Not one record of the planet could be found and no one aboard Atlantis bar Ronan, Teyla or Rodney had ever heard it mentioned.

The next stop was the Ancient database. A quick search turned up barely a paragraph of information on the planet. Palido 10 was a traders planet even back when the Ancients were a force in the Pegasus Galaxy.

"We need to go there." Rodney stated, jabbing his finger at the star Palido 10 orbited.

The way Ronon and Teyla turned in unison to look at Elizabeth was kind of unnerving. Even though the doctor still had her doubts it was clear that the team did not share them.

Elizabeth sighed. It seemed that Rodney had indeed convinced both Ronon and Teyla, and she had to admit, it was starting to ring true in her mind too.

"Okay. You have forty-eight hours. Take a Jumper and Major Lorne. You might want to start with Tal. Maybe he can tell you who he bought the ship from. It's not much but it's a step in the right direction." Well at least she hoped it was.

***

The team's first stop had been the ship-dealer's yard where Tal had purchased the Graiden ship. He, in turn, had sent them to a dealer on Segma, a beautiful oasis in the middle of an asteroid belt. This dealer bought the ship from a Graiden living on their home world of Navek.

Rodney, Teyla, Ronon and Lorne made their way from the ship they had borrowed from Tal. Lieutenant Miller was hovering not too far over head in the cloaked Jumper. Protection and an escape route should they need it. No one had been willing to fly an Ancient Jumper straight to the Graiden planet. Too many questions could have arose. As it was, they'd had enough trouble convincing the port authorities to let them land in the repair district, bypassing the main port. Rodney's quick thinking and a few pulled wires had fooled the scans into thinking that their power core was unstable and posed the risk of going critical if forced to land only to have to take off again to get to the repair sector.

The hanger they wanted was at the end of a long road lined with huge hangers. The door lay open revealing several ships in various states of repair, parts and tools neatly lined the walls, and a small pile of oily rags resided next to the smallest craft in the building.

"Hello?" Teyla said to the seemingly deserted space as they walked inside.

There was a rustling noise from behind the broken craft and a tall thin being stood up from behind it. Although they knew Navek was the Graiden home world, it still came as a shock seeing another living creature that so resembled their tormentor. Ronon was the first to react, his gun leveled on the being as soon as he saw the hair that writhed on it's head. The snarl that escaped the Satedan's lips was menacing to say the least, stopping the Graiden in his tracks.

Teyla placed a hand on Ronon's arm and whispered in his ear that this man was not their enemy though she could not blame him for being defensive. She knew he would not lower his weapon until he was sure the man posed no threat, so she stepped between the two men and introduced herself.

"I am Teyla Emmagan, and these are my friends. Ronon Dex, Major Lorne and Doctor Rodney McKay. We come seeking information on a ship that was bought from you about ten harvests ago."

"I'm Daleer Lokk, I'll help if I can. Please, come join me, I was about to have a midday meal. You're more than welcome to fill in the blanks whilst I eat."

Without a glance at the men behind her, Teyla followed Daleer deeper into the hanger. The men had no choice but to follow, albeit warily.

Daleer led them through a large metal door and it was like stepping from one reality into another. Where a moment ago they had been surrounded by the tools of the ship maintenance trade, now they stood in a small living area, warm and cosy, with all the comforts of home. A table with stools stood to the side, something reminiscent of a sofa occupied another wall, and in the far corner stood another Graiden bent over a stove stirring a pot of food.

"This is my mate, Drin Lokk."

The female Graiden rose to her full height, a head taller than her mate, and smiled warmly at the visitors whilst cleaning her hands off with a rag. Once she was satisfied they were clean she held both hands out in front of her, palms up, by way of a greeting gesture. Rodney could hardly look at her never mind touch her, so it was Teyla who shook her hand.

"It is nice to meet you both. We are searching for information. We think a friend of ours may have taken a ship once sold by yourself. The more information we can gather on this ship, the better our chance of finding him."

"Why don't you all sit and we can discuss it." Drin motioned to the table on her right.

When they were all sitting, Drin brought over a tray of drinks and offered them to the group. Teyla took one to be polite but the rest of the group ignored the hospitality.

"Have you ever heard of the White Death?" McKay blurted out.

The cup Drin was holding slipped from her fingers as a gasp escaped her lips. With lightening reflexes Daleer snagged it from the air before it could smash to the floor. Placing it carefully on the table he stood and placed a comforting arm around his mates waist before turning furious eyes upon the people he had invited into his home.

"Real subtle, McKay." Lorne whispered into the scientists ear.

"What dealings would you want to have with her?" He spat.

"We believe that she is behind our friends larceny and disappearance." Teyla stated openly.

Daleer Seemed to deflate as his hair settled down slowly onto his head. Taking his seat he gently pulled Drin down onto his lap so as to still offer comfort, he sighed and looked into Teyla's eyes.

"Carsa Dall. That was her real name." He said after a moment. "She wasn't called the White Death till much later. I once worked for her, and I use the term worked very loosely. I was a child slave, as was Drin. We shared her life from our first memories. We served her through her betrayal and in her exile. It was not until she returned to this world and was recognised that we were released from our servitude. In her haste to escape this place she left us both behind. With the help of Tarn, the owner of this hangar, we were able to stand on our own two feet. I thought she was long dead. Her ship crashed into a desert planet after being shot down by our enforcers."

"She was, to all intense and purpose. She should have been." McKay said, his eyes looking at his hands as he played with them, picking and scratching at the scars that criss-crossed their way across his wrists. "The craft was almost obliterated, but the main cockpit survived to some extent."

"They were so sure she was dead. Everyone breathed a sigh of relief when they returned and told us her ship had gone down."

"Do you know of any place that she would go, a safe haven, or somewhere important to her?" Teyla asked.

"No, sorry. Once her betrayal was known any place that she had held dear, her home, her offices, even her garden, was demolished and given back to the population she wronged. You do not seem weak minded people so I do not understand how your friend could be connected to her. If his will is strong she would not be able to control him no matter how close she was to him."

Teyla told of what had happened on the planet, explaining why they thought she may still be involved in Johns disappearance despite the fact that she was dead. Daleer looked nervously to his mate, whose black eyes were huge and wide.

"It would not be such a great stretch of imagination to believe she was involved." Daleer said, setting his cup down. "There are many ways that she could still be affecting your friend."

"Do you know anything that can help us?" Ronon asked in a low rumble.

"I am sorry, I cannot think of anything that may be of use. And I am so sorry for the friend you have lost to Her."

"If you see him, please, use this communicator to contact us." Lorne took a picture of John out of his pocket and showed it to Daleer and Drin, then pulled a radio from another and laid it on the table. The photo sparked no hint of recognition within the two Graiden. It was clear they had never set eyes on him.

"Thank you for your time and your hospitality, but we really should be going. Our search has only just begun." Teyla said as she stood up, followed by the rest.

"My apologies again that we could not help you more." Drin said, gathering in the cups.

Rodney was desperate to get out of the place, he pulled back when Drin passed him with the tray of cups, her furrowed brow showing that she had noticed. If it wasn't for the fact that he knew there were others just like her elsewhere on this planet, he would have run outside.

A shout from outside drew the attention of every one within the room. Drin's name. She placed the tray she was carrying down on the kitchen worktop and made her way to the door.

"That...that sounds like Sheppard." McKay said to Teyla, hurrying to the door behind Drin.

Sure enough, out in the field behind the hangar, John Sheppard stood. Just as surprised to see the team as they were to see him.

"John?" Rodney said.

Sheppard just stood there, a puzzled look on his face.

"Colonel, are you alright?" Lorne asked, watching Sheppard carefully, holding his P90 at the ready, just in case.

His face sneered in a way that John Sheppards face never had, and in that instant, they all knew what Rodney had been saying all along was true.

Suddenly Daleer and Drin pulled weapons and trained them on the two most threatening Lanteans, Teyla, who spun to aim at Daleer, and Ronan, who had already taken aim at Sheppard, the White Death leveled the colonels sidearm on Major Lorne. All this happened in a split second, panicking Rodney whose fight or flight instinct kicked in. Unfortunately for him the colonel's body was faster than his. Snaking an arm out, the White Death caught the scientist by his throat and pulled him so his back was flush to the colonels chest as if he intended him for a human shield.

"Where are you going McKay? It has been a while, I missed you." Sheppard hissed before dragging his tongue up the side of Rodney's face, scaring him into stillness. "Lower your weapons, or he dies first."

They lowered their weapons, Daleer and Drin disarming them, before prodding them in the back and forcing them to walk out in front.

"Lets take this reunion inside, shall we?" Sheppard said, taking McKay by the neck and roughly pushing him through the door.

"I have to hand it to you people, I never thought you would trace me so quickly." The White Death said through Sheppard's mouth. John could see his team kneeling there on the floor in front of him, could see the fear in McKay's eyes and the anger in the other's. He tried again to break the spell that she held over him, but the longer she remained in control the harder it was to break free.

He could feel her control divided now but still she was too strong. He could hear the orders she gave to the two Graiden now holding guns on his friends. It was obvious she knew their minds, the way she reasserted her control was too easy for these to just be random strangers.

"Perhaps I should not have underestimated you. You have all out shone yourselves but it will not happen again. I will not be so stupid again. I can find another body elsewhere, but you will never see John Sheppard again."

"I will hunt you down and rip your heart out." Ronon said darkly.

She laughed, firm in her belief that this large man would be dead long before he ever got near enough to carry out his threat. She looked towards Drin and Daleer and sighed.

"What fun we could have had, had my plan come to fruition." The White Death turned away and walked to the door, pausing before turning to look over her shoulder. "Kill them and await my orders." With that, she walked out, reveling in the power she still possessed.

"You do not have to do this. Fight her! You have escaped her once, you can do it again." Teyla pleaded as the two Graiden forced them to the back of the hangar. "Fight her control!"

"Do not fear, we are no longer under her control." Drin said to their relief. "She is too concerned with controlling your friend, she never noticed when we broke free."

"You could have told us!" A shaken McKay shouted as he turned to face the two he thought would be his killers.

"How were you able to break her hold on your mind?" Teyla asked, taking the weapon Drin was returning to her.

"When we were found, we were taken in by the military first, trained in repelling control and given contact devices should Carsa ever return. To be truthful, we thought this was overkill, she was dead, the devices have been locked away for a long time." Daleer told them as he opened a small cupboard recessed into the workshop wall. He pulled out two wrist straps with an intricate pattern on the top and a small button in the middle.

"I never thought we would ever have to use these." He said, depressing the button on one before handing the other to Drin.

Ronon took back his blaster and turned on his heel running full speed from the hangar, hoping that Sheppard would still be in sight, Lorne right on his.

"We must go and try to save our friend." Teyla said, before following with McKay at a slower pace.

"It may be out of your hands now." Daleer said, with a sorrowful heart after the Lanteans had left.

TBC....


	10. Chapter 9

_A/N **WARNING**: VIOLENT SCENE AND POSSIBLE CHARACTER DEATH. _

_Just so you know, this is not a nice chapter, but it is part of the tale that must be told. _

_Thank you for the continuing comments, I really enjoy reading them all! As I say, makes writing this much easier! _

_Please keep commenting, I shall try and answer them all!_

* * *

Chapter 9

It was clear to Teyla when she reached the street that Sheppard was long gone. All eyes turned to Ronon, the best tracker they had, who was already looking for clues in the everyday dirt upon the street.

"Lieutenant, please tell me you've got a signal from Colonel Sheppard's beacon....Do you at least have a visual?" Lorne asked over his radio, pausing for the answer before relaying the information to the team around him. "He's headed through the market."

Ronon didn't wait to hear any more. With a cock of his head and a feral grin spreading across his lips he took off at a ground eating pace. His long strides made it hard for the others to keep up, but Lorne managed to keep pace behind him. Teyla and McKay bringing up the rear.

"Did you see his face?" McKay panted as he tried to keep up with Teyla.

"It was not him Rodney." She stated with true conviction.

"I know, but why didn't we notice before?"

"I think, we did not want to believe." She replied, thinking back to John's behaviour in the gym.

Up ahead, Ronon slowed before stopping all together. Down the street they could see John making his way quickly to one of the few high rise buildings in the city. He ploughed through the market shoppers, not caring for those he jarred in his haste to get to his destination.

As Sheppard's body disappeared into the gloomy interior, the team took off in pursuit again. Ronon's speed was almost his undoing. A truck reversed into his path and the time it took to skirt around in the busy market place was precious seconds that gave the White Death a bigger lead on them.

Reaching the high rise, he paused at the door. An unfamiliar whine drawing his gaze skyward. A small pleasure cruiser approached the building, its side hatch open as if expecting a passenger to disembark mid-air. As the craft slowed on its approach realisation slammed into Ronon. No one was getting off and if he had anything to do with it no one would be boarding it either.

Taking the stairs to the roof three at a time Ronon barely broke a sweat. His years as a runner providing him with the stamina and speed he hoped would enable him to save his friend.

"Do you want us to take it out sir?" Lieutenant Miller's voice crackled In Major Lorne's ear.

"If you can disable it without blowing us all up, that would be nice." He retorted with a wry grin.

Teyla had also seen the ship and come to the same conclusion as Ronon. If they lost John now, they would most likely never see him again.

The stairs to the roof seemed unending. McKay was finding it hard to keep up as the team hurried upwards, panting and pulling himself along with the hand rail as fast as he could. "Remind me...to go to....the gym more often." He gasped.

They got to the roof just as the Jumper de-cloaked in front of the cruiser. Seeing no other option the pilot took evasive action, heading straight for orbit. Only it didn't make it. The Graiden defense satellites work two ways. No ship may enter the planet without permission, and no vessel may leave either, a fail safe added as a result of the White Deaths flight from the planet so many years before. The cruiser erupted in a fireball, spelling the end of the White Death's only escape route.

Ronon was near enough to hear the string of curses that issued from John's mouth as the White Death stared in disbelief.

"Hey, Sheppard! Time to go!" Ronon shouted to get his attention. When John turned around, Ronon's stunner bolt struck him square in the chest. He crumpled to the ground, twitching and groaning.

"You could've lowered the setting, Chewie." He hissed through gritted teeth, seemingly back to himself.

Ronon approached the colonel's body but refused to lower his weapon. Too many times he had been bitten to be foolish now. He patted down the left side of Sheppard's body searching for anything that resembled a weapon and was about to move on when Drin and Daleer joined the team on the roof.

The look in Drin's eyes and the glaze that descended like a veil over Lorne told him the Major was no longer in control. He glanced to where Teyla was standing. She looked as if she was struggling with something although she showed no sign of seeing anything going on around her. Spinning in his crouch Ronon turned to level his blaster on Lokk. Before he could fire, or even utter a word, he felt a blanket envelope his mind, silencing and paralyzing him. His arm slowly lowering without his permission.

_I am sorry, _Daleer's voice echoed in his head._ She is too strong for us to disobey. I only hope help comes before anything happens._

Ronon roared inside his own head, pure anger burned through his veins. He could do nothing but watch as Rodney tentatively edged across the roof towards John, oblivious to what was happening around him.

"M..M..McKay? Rodney? Man am I glad to see you!" John said as he slowly got to his feet, head bowed and sweat dripping from his brow.

Rodney stopped, his brows furrowed questioningly.

"John?" He asked warily. "It is you?"

Sheppard's legs shook with the effort of trying to keep himself upright. Panting heavily as if he'd run a marathon, it took a minute before he finally raised his head and the grin that crossed his face wiped away McKay's doubt.

"Oh, thank god. I wasn't sure. We really need to develop some sort of secret code for when this type of thing happens." Rodney grinned.

Rodney launched into a monologue then of how it was his genius that led them to Navek and how he figured out that the White Death was in control of John. As he talked he moved towards John, bridging the gap between the two men. John held an arm out showing an uncharacteristic moment of weakness, but from the look of him his legs would definitely not hold up for long without assistance. Draping his arm over Rodney's shoulder they turned and started the journey back towards the rest of the team.

"I don't think Carson will ever live it down. I mean, I was right and he was wrong. Yes! And as a bonus I get to keep my Mac, not that I ever thought I was wrong anyway." McKay continued, grinning like the cat that got the canary.

The smile didn't stay there for long. John felt his body moving, his hand swiftly making its way to Rodney's hip and back up again, knife in hand. His body turned, twisting away from McKay, stopping him in his tracks. The grin turned to a questioning look.

Sheppard could feel the anger she radiated within his mind. She did not like the man before her. This man was the one who could break her hold on John Sheppard. He had tried to keep her down, suppress her control, she needed to be stopped before something terrible happened.

The White Death was nothing if not astute. The way she controlled her victims minds was to play on their weaknesses. And John Sheppard's weakness was his friends. She played an image in his mind that sent him reeling, a vision of Atlantis destroyed and everyone on it dead, the horror shocked him to his core and that was all she needed to once again gain full control over her vessel.

Rodney took a staggered step back, away from the colonel realising something was very wrong. Sheppard's arm shot out so quickly that Rodney never saw it coming, neither did John.

There was an abrupt silence, as his mind stopped thinking and listened to his body screaming. A burning hot pain shot through his abdomen, nerve endings exploded in agony as a cold steel blade cut through Rodney's belly like a hot knife through butter. The force of the impact shoved him a back a pace, breath left his lungs in a rush, and he found his chest hitching trying to suck in air around the pain. When he managed a breath, fire erupted within his body, grey encroaching at the edge of his vision. He looked up at John but was unable to see his friend any more, only the White Death mocking him through his friends visage.

John could hear her laughing, her unbridled glee at the confusion and pain etched on his friends face. The more she laughed, the more his body jerked, forcing his hand forward, deeper, bringing gargled choking noises from McKay. For her it was a toss up as to what was pleasing her more. Rodney's pain or John's shattering soul.

As hard as he tried John could not look away. He saw Rodney's wide eyes searching his, looking for some kind of recognition, some chance that John may be there to stop this and save him.

"John?...." McKay grabbed tighter on his arms, hurting and bruising the skin in a death grip, but John felt nothing but the hole that ripped through his heart as his friends life blood puddled on the floor between them.

Rodney's fingers raked John's skin, digging into his arms in a feeble attempt to keep himself upright. He coughed from between clenched teeth, red foam forming at the corner of his mouth before dribbling down his chin.

Throughout the web of minds she controlled she could hear them all as they tried to escape from her influences. The Athosian quietly trying to out maneuver the Graiden's powerful mind control. Drin and Daleer were harder to control than she remembered but the pathways she had forged in their minds, when they were children, still allowed her access. Through them she could here their captives. The Satedan screamed the loudest his rage fueling his fight. She could hear Ronon roaring like an animal, trying to break free from the heavy grip of Daleer's mind. Lorne fought in short bursts trying different methods each time. But no matter how hard any of them fought, not one of them would be able to save their friend.

McKay fought with every last ounce of determination he could muster to stay upright, stay strong, clinging to his friends arm but his strength ebbed away as his blood left him. With a flick of John's wrist the White Death shook him off, leaving him to fall like he was no more than a piece of trash.

The scientist lay crumpled on the roofs hard surface, each breath harder than the last. A myriad of expressions passed over Rodney's face as he gripped his torso feebly, coughing up blood that threatened to choke him.

John continued to stare, watching, hoping it was all a terrible dream. She made him watch, made him watch every last tortured breath McKay fought to suck down. He could feel his hand, blood drenched, still gripping the knife. He screamed with silent terror locked within his own body.

His eyes remained locked on his friend, his final moments searing their way into his memory. Rodney's face slackened, his eyes twitched slowly back and forth until they eventually stopped darting around and focused on Johns face.

"Its...okay....John." He murmured almost inaudibly, desperately trying to get the words out before he could no longer speak. "It was...never your....fault." His head lolled to the side, his eyes closed.

John looked on, numb and cold, aware of her continuing mirth at what had happened. He let rip a roar that shook White Death to her core.

TBC.........


	11. Chapter 10

**_A/N I thank you all again who are following this awful journey of John Sheppard and his team. This chapter could be seen as graphic, so you are warned before you eat that sandwich.....:D_**

**_I know it has been a long time between chapters and I am afraid that it is not something I can control at this time. I will not promise a quick chapter eleven, but I do promise that it is worth hanging around for! ;)_**

**_Thank you for all the comments on chapter 10, you have no idea how much it means. _**

**_Massive thanks go to my beta JBPiggy, whose edits of my chapters only makes them better.  
_**

**_Please continue to comment, and I will continue to write when I can and get the final few chapters to you. _**

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Chapter 10.

Rodney's final words, the absolution he offered, were what gave him the strength he needed to break her hold. The tearing of his soul as he witnessed the light fading from the quirky, annoying, scientist that had become his friend. The forgiveness that he had even on his death bed. All added fuel to the fire already burning within him.

He could feel her struggling to reassert her authority but the adrenalin coursing through him kept her at bay. With her tucked away, cursing and screaming, struggling to maintain control of the others whilst regain her foothold in a dark recess of his mind, he knelt beside his friend's motionless body watching the ever increasing crimson stain spread. McKay's eyes were closed, slack mouth offering no hint of its usual animation.

Sheppard gently reached out, whispering his name, hand hovering just by Rodney's neck, too afraid to finalize his darkest thought. He was so white, so deathly pale that John felt his chest hitch with a terrible sob that shook his entire body. He lowered his hand, shaking his head in disbelief and grief.

_He can't be dead, not like this, not after all we've been through. _He thought, not wanting to accept the truth but seeing no alternative.

He needed to know for sure. He owed Rodney that much. Slowly his trembling hand reached over to seek out what he knew would not, could not, be there. His hand was a hairs breadth from the awful truth when an almighty roar ripped through the air. Turning he saw Ronon and Lorne fall to their knees as Drin and Daleer broke free from Carsa's control. The roar had come from Ronon, who even now struggled to his feet, his eyes blazing with unsuppressed rage.

John looked once more at Rodney, the grief and the guilt warring for control. His mouth opened in a heart wrenching roar, raw pain echoing across the rooftops.

Before the echoes died, Sheppard was on his feet racing across the roof. He knew he would never be able to maintain the fragile hold he had over the White Death. She would always be there, hounding him, haunting him. There was only one way to stop her and he was hell bent on doing just that.

He ran as fast as he could. His control was slipping and he had to do this before she stopped him. He could feel her clawing at his mind, trying to crush it, mold it, to her will. He just needed a few more moments.

He left the ground, leaping over the edge of the roof into the void between that building and the next. She screamed in his head but oddly he was at peace as he fell through the cold air. She could do what she wanted to him now, for he knew that her demise was imminent.

He heard Ronon shouting his name, shock and pain weaving through his voice, from above. Faces appeared at the edge of the roof, silhouetted against the bright blue sky. He wished he could have said a proper goodbye but he knew they would understand his choice.

Closing his eyes he smiled. Her screams were like music to his ears after the hell she had put him through.

As he fell he his body was buffeted this way and that, spinning and tumbling end over end in a nauseating flight. Opening his eyes again, he caught a glimpse of a building rushing to greet him and on instinct he braced for the impact. Smashing into the building brought a world of pain, a resonating crunch made him yell out as his shoulder dislocated and a bone in his arm shattered, puncturing the skin in a spray of blood. His leg caught on an outcropping, ripping fabric and skin, warmth flooding his trouser leg as blood flowed thickly from the wound.

Although slowing his descent, the building could not stop his momentum completely. His body tumbled down the slightly slanting roof and fell over the edge. As darkness encroached he could see the ground rushing to meet him and a moment of pure peace came over him. She could not hurt anyone ever again. He went to his death willingly if that was the price it took. Closing his eyes he waited for the inevitable, neither scared nor anxious, just accepting.

The fall seemed to be taking longer, maybe time had warped. People say that at the moment of death your whole life flashes before your eyes. Well maybe this was about to happen. Time slowing to cram in all that has occurred in one lifetime into the space of a few brief seconds.

His mind drifted to thoughts of Atlantis, the only place he had ever really called home. He thought of the people he was leaving behind, his team, his colleagues. He thought of the people that had gone before him. Those that he had lost. The freshest of whom being Rodney McKay, more brother than his real one had ever been. Tears flowed freely as he grieved for him and others, the wind wiping them away as he fell.

His stomach suddenly lurched. The sensation of rapid deceleration all too familiar to the pilot. His eyes opened and searched for the thing that dare interrupt his noble sacrifice. Seconds later his eyes fell on a Graiden ship hovering above him. Primal rage escaped in a deafening scream.

As the ships tractor beam pulled him up through the air She began to laugh. Mocking him and his inadequate nobility.

The lack of imminent death brought his body's injuries to the forefront of his mind. His arm throbbed as he cradled it against his chest. His shoulder a roaring agony rivaled only by the pulsing pain in his leg. As he was pulled ever higher he searched out the roof where his worst fears had become reality. Ronon and Lorne were kneeling next to Rodney's still body as Daleer shouted frantically into a communication device. He watched as Drin helped a shell-shocked Teyla to her feet, guiding her to the others. The air was getting thinner the higher he was taken. He had to close his eyes to concentrate on the breathing that was becoming increasingly difficult.

He must have blacked out at some point as the next thing he knew was the dry grass and dusty surface beneath him. Blinking his eyes into focus he took stock of his condition. The pain and the jagged edge of bone peeking out of the skin told him that his right arm was definitely broken. His shoulder had the dull throb and bone deep ache of a joint recently popped back into its socket, probably from the impact of landing. Struggling up onto the elbow of his good arm was a torture in itself, the stabbing sensation of broken ribs adding its chorus to the symphony of pain playing through his body.

What he could see of his leg was scary. The muscle just above his knee was torn almost to the bone, blood pumping sluggishly to add to the growing stain on his BDU's. His vision wavered then, going in and out of focus, although from the blood loss or a concussion he did not know. Closing his eyes, he hoped his body would give out before whoever had saved him could retrieve the White Deaths consciousness.

He heard the whoosh of a ships door opening and turned in time to see four Graiden slowly exit the ship that had foiled his plans. They seemed in no rush, knowing that their captive couldn't get away.

Sheppard's instincts kicked in and the surge of adrenaline that followed gave him strength enough to drag his broken body away from the aliens. With all his efforts focused on them and the weakening of his body, the White Death took advantage and regained control. She blocked out the pain, as it was not her own, and took over the failing body in a final attempt to escape.

She knew what Sheppard didn't. These Graiden offered salvation, but not for her. They wore the garb of Guards of State and she understood with clarity that they were here to finish what should have happened all those years ago.

She screamed at them to stay away, trying to get Sheppard's mangled leg beneath her as she prepared to meet her end on two feet. Sizing up her opponents with the educated eye of someone that has had to kill for survival, she quickly singled out the weakest of the pack. Muscles bunched as she prepared to make her move only to be stopped by a fifth guard she had not seen.

John's body, already overloaded, could take no more. Both sunk into darkness. John welcomed it, the White Death screamed and raged all the way.

"You were warned not to harm him! Get him into the ship!" he said to the others, glaring at the fifth guard. "Be gentle, remember this man does not deserve the punishment she does."

The rocking motion as the Graiden carried Sheppard into the ship roused the colonel. Seeing the four beings carrying him into the ship he began to struggle. The pain that erupted through him tore a cry from his lips, drawing his captors attention. The gentle, soothing, hand on his arm surprised him, as did the words that followed it.

"Lie still. Let us help you John Sheppard." The someone said, "Use what strength you have to remain in control. We shall do the rest."

He could hear her screaming in the recesses of his mind. Hissing and spitting words of venom at this one in particular. Throwing herself at his mental barriers, trying to break through even if it was only long enough to tear that ones throat out.

The kind hand, the words, and even her pure rage, lit a small flicker of feeling within John Sheppard. Even with the gaping hole in his heart he began to feel hope.

"We must hurry." The Graiden said, seeing the strain the internal struggle was putting on the human.

The ship was a larger version of the craft that John had stolen from Tal, slightly wider but much longer. As they entered a long narrow walkway and started heading to the rear of the ship he felt the fear well up within her, she was really terrified now, and John could not help but smile. Feeling his joy at her discomfort she flashed an image of McKay's dying and pleading face to the fore front of his mind, taking the edge of his victory and the smile from his face.

The gentle hand had remained, although offering silent strength and comfort it also gave them early warning if the colonel should lose his battle for control. The bunching of muscles followed by a sharp intake of breath made that hand tighten and others grasp various limbs. Pinning the White Death to the stretcher, the only thing left for her to do was scream profanities and spit curses at her enemies. Her mind control only worked on weak or uneducated minds. Guards of State trained for years to strengthen mental barriers. A race that has an inbuilt ability to project ones own mind, and to a certain degree their will, need people that are immune to such influences. Tested at birth for a certain gene they are then trained till no one can break through their defenses.

Rocking to and fro, bucking for her very life she managed to get a leg free and kicked out, catching the litter bearer square on the jaw. As the stretcher fell she tried to get her feet under herself forgetting that the other leg would bear no weight. As she fell to the floor John's head bounced off the wall of the narrow corridor, leaving Carsa and himself dazed making it easier for the guards to return Sheppard's body to the litter and restrain the White Death more securely.

Through the haze Sheppard watched as he was taken into a darkened room and was vaguely aware as they lifted him into a chair much like the pilots chair of one of their ships. No longer dazed, Carsa used his body to writhe and scream, punch out and seek freedom. John was screaming in pain as his arms and legs were forced into restraints, they worked quickly, binding him to the chair despite his ongoing agony. As he started to black out again, he watched from the confines of his mind, ignoring the words coming from his own mouth for they did not concern him. He instead tried to focus on what they were doing.

Cables were forced into the back of his hand the pain of it searing up his veins like someone had poured acid into them. The reality of the situation finally hit her and she was silent for a heartbeat. But only one.

"NO! You can not do this to me! I am your rightful leader!" She screamed over and over.

A very tall, elderly, Graiden stepped into the room, all eyes turning to him. You could have heard a pin drop in that room as the silence echoed. The White Death projected a feeling that John thought she was incapable of, love.

Sheppard's eyes must have shown what she was feeling because the Graiden shook his head, his eyes pained yet filled with rage at the same time. He placed a cool hand on Sheppard's forehead, and placed his head against it.

"Once perhaps, in another lifetime when you were not the bitter evil thing I see in this poor mans eyes."

John felt the emotions streaming through her mind. Love; remorse; grief. This lasted but a few seconds before once again her heart was filled with hate, with evil. She cursed her mate from Johns mouth, ancient words of promised pain and destruction. Hoping to hurt him as much as his words had hurt her.

"Carsa Dall, I am Rinus Dall. I have requested to serve justice upon you. You have been judged and found to be responsible for the murder of ten thousand eight hundred and seventy-seven Graiden by aiding the Wraith in a culling. You are also charged with the death of three hundred souls on Palido 10. You were once sentenced to death and I am here to witness that the sentence is carried out." Her husband said with finality.

"NO!!!!!" She screamed and turned in the chair, knowing there was no escape this time yet still refusing to accept. There had been a chance she could have survived the fall and made it to a terminal to transfer into it, but this? This was final. This was the end.

A Graiden dressed in a green suit stood off to the side behind a raised console. As he tapped a sequence on the keys before him John was suddenly back in control. It took a moment longer for him to realise that it was silent, as if Carsa had been switched off. The relief left him reeling, only just able to focus on Rinus in front of him. He was exhausted, the pain in his body hitting him in a massive rush as Carsa's control of his suffering was cut off. A long and low groan fell from his lips, the onslaught of sensations almost too much to bear.

"John Sheppard. You have held this entity within you by no fault of your own. We need to remove her from you, but can not guarantee that you will survive this." It was a statement, merely explaining. It had to be done whether he gave his consent or not.

John nodded his head. He had accepted his death as her end when he first leapt from the roof.

"Then it is with a heavy heart John Sheppard, we take the chance of your death with the certainty of hers." The sorrow in Rinus' eyes was not for his wife but for the human that had had to suffer at her hands.

More taps could be heard from the technician at the console and once again the White Death was back, writhing and screaming, her attempts to release herself from the seat in vain, causing John more damage to his already battered body.

"I WILL NOT DIE!!" She screamed. "I CAN NOT DIE! Rinus! RINUS!"

Rinus smiled sadly as he pushed the button that flooded Johns blood stream with a muscle relaxant and anesthetic, the colonels body went limp, his breathing shallow. Sheppard was vaguely aware of more screaming but did not know if it was his or hers. The drugs coursing through his blood stream stripped him of the want to care. His eyes growing heavier before finally they closed and his mind shut down.

The removal process itself was rather a simple matter, a reversal of what had put her in Johns head in the first place. An empty ships brain had been brought in contained in a jar and connected to the console the technician was working from. This brain would search for Carsa within John's mind and would extract all trace of her. Although simple in theory, more often than not, the brain that held both consciousnesses ended up damaged, sometimes from the connection to the bio-mechanical brain and sometimes due to the entity being removed damaging the mind as it is dragged out.

It was the only way to remove an entity that did not want to be removed and still offer the host a chance of survival. It was a procedure that had been developed during the long war, when one side had tried to control enemy soldiers.

This time though, it was the mind of an innocent that was at risk. Rinus knew well the repercussions if things went wrong, but he had no choice. With a sigh he gave the clone brain the order to do what it was brought here to do. He sat with bated breath as the seconds ticked by, knowing the longer it took the less likely the host would survive.

Two lights finally flashed, indicating that the White Death had been successfully transferred from John Sheppard's consciousness into the cloned brain.

Rinus did not know how he would feel at this moment when he had volunteered for this task. As he injected the nerve agent that was designed to break the connections of the neural pathways he didn't feel any sadness. Just a sense of overwhelming relief. From the time he discovered Carsa's betrayal he had felt guilt. Guilty of not noticing what she had been up to. Guilt because he survived when many perished.

When the lights flashed amber he disconnected the brain from the console before reconnecting it to a different one. This one flooded the brain with ten thousand volts effectively liquefying the brain and destroying all that was once the woman he loved.

The White Death was no more.

The Graiden rejoiced, their hair tendrils dancing with pride as they clasped hands to forearms and voiced their elation. It took a moment for them to notice that Rinus stood silently, not joining in the celebration.

His educated hands were unbinding the blood soaked and broken body of John Sheppard from the chair.

TBC.....


	12. Chapter 11

**A/N Thank you to all who have continued to follow Sheppard's tale. I think he will need the company and support in this chapter.......**

**As always comments welcomed and loved.....:D!**

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Chapter 11

"_.....into surgery to flush it out and realign the bones....."_

"_... lucky. Blood loss alone..."_

"_...Time will tell, but knowing him......."_

"_...hear us?..."_

Snatches of conversation drifted down through the layers of drugs that weighed on him, the words lost in the haze. He felt like he was floating on the ocean, cushioned from the world outside, safe. He saw no reason to fight the pull of sleep and drifted back under.

His next foray into consciousness didn't even remotely resemble the first. Hands touched without permission, causing pain where there had been but a dull ache. Each new sensation added to the nausea churning in his stomach and with a particularly strong pain he lost his battle. The hands stopped what they were doing to roll him onto his side. Dry heaves sent more pain cascading through his broken body before oblivion reclaimed him.

Slowly awareness came to him, again. This time there were no hands and for that he was grateful. Remaining as still as possible, he tried to assess the seriousness of the damage he had caused himself. His right arm was immobilized in a cast and strapped to his chest, a muted ache telling him that moving either arm or shoulder would result in a world of hurt. He could feel the tight binding of a brace wrapped from ankle to mid thigh encasing his left leg, the itching beneath it beginning to register in the catalogue of signals his brain was receiving.

Then it truly hit him. He was alone. His own thoughts echoed around his head, sending a wave of relief through him.

He had survived. She was dead.

But she was not the only casualty of this battle. His breathing became ragged as he thought of who had not made it through this ordeal. He had watched as the light faded from terror filled blue eyes as his friend died by his hand.

Why had he survived but not Rodney?

His monitors began beeping, a strident noise adding to the rushing in his ears. Grey encroached on the corners of his vision as footsteps rushed towards him.

Hands once again touched without permission. Placing an oxygen mask over his face, wiping the sweat from his brow. Nausea reared it's ugly head again as the guilt weighed heavy on his heart. The hands helped him, rolled him, held him as he vomited, and replaced the mask as the cramping subsided.

"Relax, John, you need to let us help you," a Scottish brogue instructed.

Why would anyone help him? He'd killed his friend. He wanted to scream at them, yell at them to leave then curl up in a ball and let the world, the universe, disappear.

Beckett was still talking but his words were lost on the man laid on the bed before him as sleep once again claimed John Sheppard.

It had always taken a lot of sedation to knock the colonel out and keep him under for any given time. Carson was loathe to keep administering that amount of narcotics so was gently weaning Sheppard off of them. The pain medication would stay for a while but at lower doses. He hoped withdrawing the drugs would finally bring his friend out of his stupor.

John noticed the lack of haze the next time he awoke. His mind finally feeling clear for the first time in months. The only problem was the clarity left him with the ability to keep reliving moments he would rather forget. He wished he could live in that moment of waking, the one before he remembered what had happened, for the rest of his life. That moment when everything was normal. The moment before reality came crashing down upon him.

The nurses came and turned him every two hours through the night to maintain his skin integrity and try to allow him some comfort. This was fine until he had to move again. Why they couldn't turn him back before he woke was beyond him, but then the pain served as a punishment for what he had done. Taking as deep a breath as his healing ribs would allow, he turned from his side onto his back with a grunt. Staring at the ceiling, he licked his dry lips and tried to breathe away the nausea and attempted to keep his mind blank.

His stomach would clench with anguish every time his guilt dragged him back to the moment on a roof top billions of miles away. Remembering with crystal clear images the last moments of Rodney McKay's life. The machine beeping across the room a mockery of the fading pulse he could still feel ebbing beneath his fingers.

Beep...beep...beep.

Closing his eyes he tried to block everything out again. He'd almost succeeded when a cough beside him brought him back. A nurse, Rose if he recalled rightly, began his morning check up. Checking his vitals and making sure he was comfortable, noting down her observations on his chart.

Her happy, friendly, nature only added to the pit of despair within him. No matter what she said or did he refused to engage with her, turning away from her as he was trying to turn away from the rest of the world. He only turned back to staring at the ceiling once she had left, wishing the incessant beeping would cease and leave him in peace.

Beep...beep...beep.

No sooner had he thought it than he felt a twist of guilt. He didn't wish the person dead just the machine to quit its annoying monotone. Raising his head up enough to see the person lying on the bed across the infirmary he tried to see who it was. His effort was in vain as the motionless figure was partially obscured by a screen. Poor guy, he thought, judging by the machines, he was in a bad way.

Sheppard let his head fall back to the pillow, grimacing at a twinge from his shoulder. Across the way a distressed choking cough was heard. The infirmary erupted into what seemed like chaos to the untrained eye but each person knew their role as they hurried to aid the person behind the screen. The beeping of the machines picked up the pace.

"It's okay, Rodney, just relax. Relax. You're okay."

The coughing died down and the machines settled back into their rhythmic tone.

John felt his heart quicken. He levered himself up, threw back the covers and swung his legs over the side of the bed. Already breathing heavily and sweating profusely, he took a moment to steady himself. He pulled off the cables from his monitors making them scream until a nurse silenced them. He grabbed his IV stand for support and slid from the bed, ignoring the nurse and her attempts to keep him in his bed. The pain that shot up his leg almost had him sitting again but the need to see if he had heard right gave him the incentive to continue on his course. Limping as fast as he could without sprawling flat on his face, he made his way across the room.

He made it half way before his vision swam and the floor beneath his feet seemed to lurch. Great strong arms encircled his chest preventing his descent to the tiled floor.

"Idiot." Ronon said in his usual gruff tone. He started to help Sheppard back to his bed until John began to struggle.

"No...no...I need..." He twisted weakly in Ronon's arms, but the Satedan seemed to know what John was asking for.

He helped him cross the room, John leaning heavily on Ronon for support lest he collapse. Beckett was disposing of the intubation tube he had just removed from the mans throat, he turned to John and smiled.

John looked upon, a very alive if somewhat battered, Rodney McKay and tried to comprehend.

John had seen better pallor on corpses. McKay, although breathing, looked like he had one foot in the grave already. Sheppard couldn't tear his eyes from Rodney's chest. Each breath seemed to defy what Sheppard took as fact.

Ronon helped him onto a chair, making sure he was steady before backing off and giving the colonel the space he always craved.

"How?" He finally managed to ask.

"The Graiden." Ronon replied. "When you...jumped, the connection broke, they helped him."

John stared in disbelief.

"He's stubborn." Ronon said, a small smile on his face.

"Yeah. He is." John replied, still stunned.

He saw the dressing that covered the wound that should have been his friends death, his own stomach churning at the guilt he still felt.

Teyla stepped forward, flashing a warm smile at John, clearly pleased to see him awake, hoping that her friend would now throw off the feelings of despair that she knew weighed down his heart.

He was aware of someone speaking to him, a hand on his shoulder that squeezed offering him warmth, comfort. He could hear words telling him he was not responsible, not to blame himself, no one blames him and other platitude's that didn't ring true in his mind.

Sheppard remained at Rodney's bedside long enough for his eyes to see the damage he had caused, long enough to know he was a danger to his friends, a liability. Shrugging the hand from his shoulder he pushed himself back to his feet. Gritting his teeth to the pain, he slowly unsteadily turned and with the aid of his IV stand made his way back across the room.

Breathing fast and trying to shake off dizziness that threatened to floor him, he finally made it to his bed, ignoring the voices that called his name. Even though he knew she was gone, he imagined Carsa's evil cackle within his head, mocking him.

Beckett was there, trying to get him back into bed, asking worried questions regarding how he felt. John pushed him away, looking everywhere for his clothes, then deciding it didn't matter, the scrubs he was wearing would do. The walls were closing in on him, the claustrophobia breaking a cold sweat and spreading goosebumps over his body. His hearing was dulled and his vision blurred. An indescribable urge to run came over him, ripping the IV from his arm he didn't even notice the spray of blood as the needle bent coming out. With legs threatening to buckle he stepped away from the bed and managing to stay upright, pushed passed Beckett then headed out of the infirmary before staggering down the corridor outside.

Ronon went to follow, only to be stopped at the door by Beckett's arm on his. Turning, he glared his annoyance at the Scot. He didn't like it but he knew the doctor was right. Knowing what John Sheppard had been through over the last few months, perhaps it would not be such a bad thing to let him be for a while. Beckett only hoped that he did not cause himself any more damage during that time, it had taken a lot of work to put him back together again, but that was not to say he would stay together. Better that John was allowed to cool down and come back, he decided.

"Follow and keep an eye on him. Give him space, and help when the fool finally realises he should not out of bed." He said, sighing as the Satedan ran after the escapee.

Ronon knew where he would be heading. Where he always went when he needed time to think.

When he fled the infirmary he had no destination in mind. He only knew he had to get out, get as far away from there as possible. As far away from everything as he could. His leg had gone from a muted roar to a full on inferno of pain, each step a new torture. He made it to the transporter and crashed into the back wall.

His shoulder popped painfully on impact almost bringing him to his knees. He waited for his vision to clear before he pressed the control panel and felt the familiar tug as he was moved from one side of the city to the other almost instantaneously. As the door opened he pushed his tired, abused, body away from the wall and began his ungainly walk down the deserted corridor. Each step left him on the verge of blacking out and the warmth he felt spreading down his leg could not be anything good.

He didn't know when the tears started to fall, or even why, but he let them fall unchecked as he made his way slowly to where his feet were taking him. The door swooshed and the cold night air sliced right to the very marrow of his bones. Limping to a spot he could curl up on, he sat and tried to come to terms with all that tormented him.

The sound of the sea had always had a calming effect on him, washing away worries that troubled him. But today the sound had no effect at all, his misery remained like a raging storm. He sat there for a long time, thoughts and images running through his mind as he replayed the last few months, trying to find some peace within, some way to move beyond what had happened.

Huddling against the balcony shivering in his scrubs, his good arm hugged his chest. He rocked back and forth in time to the waves crashing against the pier below him, lost in his own little world.

Ronon stood for a while in the doorway, watching John. It pained him to see the man before him suffering so much. He had no idea what he was going to say, but he supposed it did not matter so long as he was there.

The Satedan approached him slowly not wanting to startle the poor man, placed a blanket over John's shuddering frame then sat down beside him, offering his body heat and his support.

"When I was a runner, I did what I needed to survive. Some of the things I did, I still see when I close my eyes, that is my punishment. But you have no need to punish yourself. Unlike me, your actions were not your own." Ronon said in a gentle low voice.

John remained silent, but his rocking slowed.

"No one blames you and I am sure McKay wont either."

The words rang true to some deep sense within the colonel. Turning his head he finally looked at the warrior beside him and saw no trace of hatred on the mans face only concern and compassion.

"Let's get you back before Beckett works himself into an early grave and takes me with him." The Satedan said with a smirk.

At a weak nod from Sheppard, Ronon was on his feet and offering a hand to pull John to his feet. With a rush of movement John found himself upright with his head leaning against the Satedan's chest as the world spun around him. He did not care how weak he appeared, he knew he would not make it back to the infirmary on is own. Ronon's strong arms held him steady as he fought through wave after wave of dizziness that made his stomach heave.

Even before he took one step, he knew he was going to pass out, thankful that Ronon was there to help him. To catch him when he falls

_TBC........_


	13. Chapter 12

_**A/N So you may or may not be glad to know, that this is the penultimate chapter to this tale! I am already sad that it is nearing its end, and may well be rather weepy by the end of the last chapter ;) I have had to change the way I break the chapter up as *** does not seem to be working anymore, just in case you wonder what ---000--- is lol!  
**_

_**So I give you chapter 12, and thank you all for coming this far and continuing to comment in the reviews. Love to see reviews, they make me smile! :D**_

_**Go on, make me smile more, leave more reviews! **_

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Chapter 12

Sound was the first of his senses to return. A dull humming drone that grew steadily louder. Then it was a tickling sensation at the back of his throat. Try as he might he just could not ignore it. The resultant coughing fit bought tears to his eyes as with each cough searing pain shot up from his belly and stole what little breath he managed to draw back in.

"He's wakening up." A voice said.

"Ach, he would pick now, wouldn't he."

A mask was placed over his face and the rush of oxygen helped ease his battle for air. The coughing subsided and the pain backed off to a dull roar. Raising his hand he tried to feel out the cause of the problem only to be gently restrained and told to remain still.

The next step was opening his eyes, which was no mean feat as they felt like they had been glued shut. Once he had adjusted to the soft lighting of the infirmary, he jumped as Carson's head suddenly appeared in his field of vision.

The diminutive Scottish doctor was smiling whilst prodding around his belly, soothing words trying to take the sting away from his actions. Although his mind was still foggy, he made out the words clean and dressing and put two and two together.

The memories hit him like a freight train. The White Death, the roof top, the knife piercing his flesh, the evil laughter coming from his friends mouth as he fell down, the vile and malicious look on Johns face.

His breathing quickened and the monitors he had not noticed before picked up a frightening rhythm.

"You have to calm down Rodney." Beckett urged, as he finished changing the dressing.

_Easier said than done, jackass_, he thought. The memories replaying in his minds eye with startling clarity, were so vivid he could still feel the burn as the knife punctured his skin, forcing its way in. He remembered choking on his own blood and the pain that tore him in half.

Beckett kept up his caring litany, reminding him he was alive, that he was safe, but that if he didn't calm down he was going to have to sedate him.

It took a few minutes and some coaching, but finally his breathing settled back into a normal pattern. Once Carson was sure he was calm enough he began to explain what had occurred. As he listened, Rodney took some ice chips that one of the nurses offered him and the cool liquid was heaven on his parched throat.

"It was touch and go for a while there, but we managed to keep you with us. You are one lucky laddie, Rodney. It's good to have you back." Beckett smiled.

That was not what concerned Rodney. His throat may not be up to talking yet but his ever expressive eyes asked the question for him.

"The Colonel is fine, Rodney, don't you worry about him." Carson sighed, deliberately avoiding looking straight at him.

"Oh God, Carson...please...Is he...?" he whispered hoarsely.

It dawned on Beckett that Rodney could possibly have seen John's act of self sacrifice, and laid a reassuring hand on his shoulder to calm him.

"No no lad, he isn't dead, but he isn't well."

Rodney stared at Carson, waiting for the Scot to elaborate.

"Look, Rodney. You have been out for almost two weeks, you have a wound that nearly killed you, and you need all your strength to heal. You have no idea what it has been like, patching you up and willing you to come through. You slept through the worry and the scary moments when we all thought we were going to lose you. So think about yourself first, then we can deal with others."

Rodney merely nodded. He was already exhausted by this short interaction, so he knew that Beckett was right.

"Trust you to pick now to wake up, mind you." Carson changed the subject. "Everyone has been round your bed since you got here, I just chased them all away so I could treat you."

Rodney smiled weakly and turned his head to the side, catching a glimpse of a troubled and sad face beyond the curtain at the doorway to the infirmary. For a moment he had no idea who it was, then gasped in shock as he recognised the haunted appearance of John Sheppard. He tried to beckon him to come in but John had already gone by the time Beckett turned to see what Rodney was getting flustered about.

"Get some rest Rodney." Carson said turning back from the door. "When they all hear you're awake, they're all going to want to see you."

Rodney nodded, continuing to stare at the door while he wondered where John had gone.

---000---

That was all it took to make his mind up. Seeing Rodney awake had gone a little way to mend a part of the hurt, but his reaction to seeing John at the doorway hurt like hell.

He had looked like a man who wanted to crawl out of his skin to get away from him. Trying to show Carson the threat that terrified him, the gasp of fear when he had seen John standing there.

He could no longer stay here in Atlantis. He had already discussed returning to Earth with Elizabeth who had taken the news quite badly. She argued that he should stay, that he had to stay as he needed his family to help him through this, that the people on Atlantis were his family.

He had smiled indulgently and told her he would think about it some more and get back to her. She nodded her head and told him he had a weeks leave to think it over, not a moment sooner. She only hoped they could bring him out of this depression before he made the biggest mistake of his life.

He had spent the last couple of days weighing up the pros and cons for leaving, but Elizabeth's words had him leaning towards staying. This was where his life was. This was where he had found what he lacked on earth. A family.

But how could he stay now? Now that he knew his presence would only continue to torture McKay? They may be forgiving of him now, but if McKay were to leave because he stayed, would they be so forgiving?

His inner torment was tearing him apart, and his decision to leave cleaved his heart in two.

---000---

Rodney was still confined to bed. Carson had warned him not to attempt to get up unaided as after two weeks in bed, his muscles had started to atrophy and even though the wound had healed the muscles beneath were still knitting back together. So he lay there each day waiting for the physiotherapist to arrive for his latest torture session, smiling at visitors, narking at Beckett and resting his healing body, wondering all the time why John never came to visit and why no one spoke of him.

He looked forward to Zelenka's visits the most as their conversations kept his mind working and alive. Not to mention they also allowed Rodney to relieve some stress by berating his colleagues efforts to keep the city running without him.

"Where's Colonel Sheppard?" he asked Zelenka as he sat down next to his bed.

"I am unsure Rodney, I haven't seen him today."

"Something's wrong, he's avoiding me. Is he okay?" Rodney asked as he gingerly turned a little in the bed, wincing as the deep internal bruising reminded him why he was still in the infirmary.

"I've heard, through the...the... grape vine, that Colonel Sheppard wishes to depart the city." Zelenka said, pushing his glasses back up the bridge of his nose.

"What?" McKay all but shouted.

"It would seem that he no longer wishes to be here. Some are saying that he has had a breakdown."

"A break...what?! When does he intend to leave?!" Rodney asked, the panic evident in his voice, attracting Becketts attention.

"I do not know Rodney." Zelenka said watching Carson approach.

"Did you know about this?!" Rodney demanded. "John is leaving Atlantis?"

"No, this is the first I've heard of it."

"But...but..this is outrageous! Where is he going to go?"

"Home, I guess." Zelenka shrugged.

"This _is_ his home!" Rodney screeched, grabbing his stomach at the ripping pain that tore through it.

"Calm down Rodney! You will do yourself no favours if you rupture the muscles in that wound and I am not in the mood to have to stitch you back up again!" Carson said a little more sternly than he had intended to, as he tried to stop Rodney from getting out of the bed.

"I want to see him!" Rodney demanded, his face a mask of anger tinged only slightly with fear.

"That's it! I have enough of this idiotic behavior. It's high time that I went to see John Sheppard, and bring him to his bloody senses." Carson excused himself and shook his head admonishingly at Zelenka, who lowered his head meekly.

---000---

If truth be told, John Sheppard was scared. Scared to face Rodney McKay, scared of losing the strange friendship that the two had built over the past few years. When Carson had approached him and told him that Rodney wanted to see him, the first thing he felt a sinking sensation in the pit of his stomach. What would McKay say? Would there be hate in his eyes? He didn't know if he could handle the finality that this meeting would have. The second was a great rush of relief, he would face Rodney one last time and take whatever punishment the scientist wanted to bestow on him. Then he would leave and start on rebuilding his life.

When he smirked and said to Carson that he had seen Rodney's reaction the day he had woken, Beckett had smiled and told him he had it wrong. Sheppard listened in disbelief that Rodney had tried to beckon him, that he had wanted to see him.

"That's not what I saw Doc."

"Well it's what happened Colonel. You are on a path of self destruction that you need not be on. Did you ever stop to think that no one, not even Rodney, blames you for his predicament? Son, it wasn't you who did it!"

John nodded his head, listening to Carson but not really believing him.

"The Graiden told us that you might develop depression. He told us that it is not uncommon for low mood and self esteem to develop in someone who has gone through what you have. Hell, to have carried such a negative being in your head, it is bound to have left you with some scars. And stop nodding your head Colonel, it's bloody irritating!" He spat out. "You need help and we want to help you. Yet you insist on muddling through alone. Don't shut yourself off from those who want to help. Those that can help."

John just stared at Carson.

"And all this nonsense about leaving Atlantis stops right now, you understand? You belong here, you silly wee bugger. Now, I expect to see you in the infirmary within the hour. If not, then by God you will hear me son."

John was taken aback and left speechless. He watched as Carson turned and walked out of the room and hoped that he never got onto the bad side of the lovable Scot.

Outside the room when the door closed, Carson stopped, let out a long breath ending in a low whistle, then smiled and walked back to the infirmary.

---000---

Carson nodded as John hobbled into the infirmary, his cane tapping out a rhythm as he came though the door. He nodded to the doctor before making his way slowly towards Rodney's bed.

The scientist was sound asleep, but there was colour in his cheeks that had not been there when John had first seen him days ago. He smiled as Rodney purred a low snore, so deep asleep that he did not want to disturb him. He sat down quietly on the chair, careful not to make any noise that might wake the sleeping man.

As he sat there he thought over the past few months, most of which now seemed so long ago. He fought down the bile rising in his throat when he thought of Carsa Dall, the White Death, and the things she had done. But she would never hurt anyone again, the Graiden had seen to that.

He thought about what McKay had been put through when they were trapped on the planet, so terrifying that it effected him long after they had returned. Twice he had been behind the torture of his friend, although indirectly, he still felt the guilt of not being in control of his actions.

That is what all this came down to. A loss of control. It was something he feared more than anything. His jump from the building scared him, but at least he had been in the drivers seat then. To have been eager to kill himself seemed abhorrent to him now, but he knew he would do it again in a heartbeat if it meant saving the lives of the people he cared about.

He thought about Carson Beckett, how he was always there to pick up the pieces. If he was the brawn, Rodney the brains, then Carson was definitely the glue that was needed to stick them all back together both mentally and physically. A smile played across his face as he remembered his earlier reprimand.

"What're you smiling 'bout?" came a tired voice.

He looked up and straight into the blue eyes of his friend. He was quiet for a moment, taking the time to read those eyes and what they told him. He smiled again as he found nothing spiteful in them, saw no hatred or blame, only the friendly weary eyes of Rodney McKay.

"I'm just thinking about how that snore of yours sounds like a damn cat purring." He drawled, relaxing back into the chair.

"I don't snore, it's your imagination." Rodney yawned.

"Sure you do. In fact I came here to tell you to shut the hell up, you are screwing with my self pity."

Rodney laughed, a pained expression on his face.

"Please don't make me laugh." He said grimacing, holding his stomach.

John's heart missed a beat, again the guilt hit him. An image of his blood soaked hands letting Rodney fall to the ground flashed in his mind.

Rodney seemed to pick up on his feeling.

"It wasn't your fault, John. You have to understand that."

"I know, everyone keeps telling me that." He said dragging a hand through his messy hair, looking around the room so he didn't have to look McKay in the eye.

"Yeah, well maybe you should listen to them."

"How you feeling, anyway?" He said, trying to steer the conversation away from him.

"Oh you know, like I was hit by a puddle jumper."

"I know the feeling." John chuckled, gesturing to his leg and shoulder.

Both men entered into their own thoughts, an easy silence falling between them. They could hear Carson working away in the background, whistling as he tidied up his notes.

Everything seemed so normal, so quiet and so tranquil it was almost surreal.

"We are going to be okay, right?" Rodney asked, staring dreamily into space while trying to fight off the much needed sleep his body was requesting.

John sat quietly, thinking about the question. After a short while he nodded.

"You know, I think we are." He finally said, making Rodney smile.

"Anyway, we never did have that movie night with Ronon and Teyla." Rodney sighed tiredly. "You have to stick around for that."

John smiled, Rodney missed nothing.

"Yeah, I was thinking we should introduce them to Star Wars." He said, watching as Rodney's eyes grew heavy.

"Hmmm? Why?" He all but whispered.

"Well, it's like a fiction of what we do everyday. That and Ronon kinda reminds me of a large furry beast who growls a lot in the films."

Rodney snorted, coming awake for a few moments longer.

"Yeah, I always said he was a Conan, but Chewie is a better likeness." He sighed.

John chuckled again, realising in that moment that he could not leave Atlantis, he could not leave these people who had become his family behind. He smiled to himself and went to speak again when he noticed that Rodney was asleep once more.

"I'm going nowhere buddy. I'm so sorry for what happened, I'll make it up to you. To all of you. " He said in a hushed tone.

He stood up to leave when the sleepy voice followed him.

"You better." Rodney murmured, followed promptly by a snore.

_tbc......_


	14. Chapter 14

_**Well, here it is. The final chapter. It has been a long hard time for the team, as well as myself and J (beta)! I am so glad that people enjoyed this tale, and I appreciate the time people took to comment and let me know what they thought of it. **_

_**But it is over now! I hope you enjoy this final scene! Who knows, I may write another in the future, time will tell!**_

_**Thank you all again! Enjoy!**_

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Epilogue.

Atlantis gleamed in the light from the setting sun, a towering glowing icon of hope to the galaxy beyond. Internal lights flickered to life as the sun set lower, the temperature dropping as night replaced day.

John looked serenely from his favored balcony, over the vast ocean that rippled below.

He was no longer the guarded guilt ridden fool he had been three weeks ago. Balance was restored within him, wounds were healing and mental scars were beginning to mend.

He closed his eyes and breathed in the salty air as if it were a healing potion in itself, savoring the scent like a perfume. As he exhaled, he dropped his head and smiled.

He was going to be fine.

He remembered sitting in this exact place five weeks before, huddled in scrubs against the freezing wind that had howled across the sea to wash against him, hopeless and broken. He did not recognise that John Sheppard. The feelings seemed so long ago, so alien to him now. He could barely remember the chaos that had ruled his mind then, as if he had already blanked them out of existence.

The setting sun cast its final light upon the ever moving sea, creating a multitude of colours that reminded John of the water that had once poured down the city's stained glass windows as it climbed into the sky from beneath the waves. As the city was once reborn, so, he found, was he.

Tonight, everything seemed right, everything seemed to be as it should. He would go meet his friends and enjoy a night of fun and laughter.

He smiled again. Friends.

These friends were more like family and made him feel that this was his home, more than he ever had felt on Earth. His decision to stay here, so far from the place that he was born, was so easy when surrounded by this surrogate family that accepted him as readily as he did them.

He silenced the shrill alarm from his watch that reminded him that it was time to join the others for an evening of entertainment that was long over due.

He smirked at the thought of what the others would think of tonight's entertainment, looking forward to their thoughts on the coming movie. He often forgot that not all of them had been brought up on Earth, the relationship they all had often made them forget that they were from different galaxies.

McKay had chosen tonight's movie, and John felt that it portrayed them to the point of almost being written about them.

He took one last look out over the balcony and made his way indoors to the movie room.

-000-

Rodney had been out of the infirmary for a week now. Slowly healing, he had begun working again if only for an hour a day. The pain medication Carson still had him on made him drowsy and after an hour of work McKay was ready for a long siesta. He hated feeling this wiped out, but the dosage was slowly being lowered and once he was med free Elizabeth would increase his lab time.

He walked slowly and cautiously down the corridor, one hand protectively hovering over his stomach while the other carried bags of popcorn. He could hear they had already started, the familiar sounds booming from the other side of the door as he approached. He did not mind, he had seen it a million times, knew it word for word and scene for scene. Had done since he was nine and fell in love with a galaxy far, far, away.

"_Look at him. He's headed for that small moon!"_

_"I think I can get him before he gets there...he's almost in range."_

"_That's no moon, it's a space station."_

"_It's too big to be a space station."_

"Ahhh! Decided to join us, finally." John said as Rodney gently lowered himself down on the couch next to Teyla.

"Well, I don't move the way I used to." He replied tossing a bag at Johns head.

John's face flickered with guilt that quickly vanished at the teasing look Rodney gave him.

"So Han understands what Chewbacca is growling?" Teyla asked, curling her feet up comfortably under her body.

"Well we understand Ronon, it's not so different." Rodney said throwing a piece of popcorn in his mouth.

Ronon was too engrossed in the film to even retaliate.

"The tractor beam seems to have pulled him in." John commented, to which Rodney snickered.

Carson was laid out on the floor, his hands behind his head.

"Do you mind? Some of us are trying to watch the film here." He said with feigned annoyance.

"I still can not believe you've never seen these." Rodney said unbelieving.

"Well while you were geeking out like the nerd you were, I was studying."

"Still am Carson, still am a geek or nerd as you put it, and proud of it. And for your information I studied! I just have the capacity to cram and view at the same time." Rodney replied pompously.

John watched the screen while surreptitiously listening to the friendly banter going on around him. He was a far cry from being back to normal, but it was times like these that he valued being here on Atlantis, among the family that they had created here. This past year had showed him that blood wasn't the only thing that bonded people together.

Letting out a deep contented sigh, he drew his fingers slowly through his hair, before becoming aware of eyes watching him. Turning to see Rodney looking at him questioningly, a hint of concern in his eyes.

_He picks up on more than he lets on,_ John thought, as he smiled reassuringly back at him.

"_Who's the more foolish? The fool, or the fool who follows him?" _

"_Gararararararah!" _

"I do not sound like that." Ronon growled to no one in particular, sending the group into a fit of laughter. "What? I don't! And he's big and hairy!"

The runner turned to glare at them, which drove the group into a state of hysterics. He promptly ignored them and continued to watch the film while they cried tears of laughter at his expense.

It felt good to laugh. Sighing, John settled himself more comfortably in the chair, setting his feet upon the table and opening a can of beer.

It was good to be home.

* * *

The END! *cries!*


End file.
